Deeper Down The Rabbit Hole
by A. Linnea Elindor
Summary: When Percy's left-behind diary reveals some disturbing images, how deep will Ron and Ginny go to find out the truth behind their brother?
1. Harry and Hermione

Title: Deeper Down The Rabbit Hole

Author: A. Linnea Elindor

Story: With the Grangers in hiding and Harry unable (read: unwilling) to leave the Dursleys for Grimmauld Place, Ron, Ginny and Neville happen upon a diary that may lead them down a path they can't turn back from.

Disclaimer: This story borrows gratuitously from the worlds created by J.K. Rowling and Terry Pratchett. Some things may have been changed to fit into my warped plan (for example: I know Granny Weatherwax had no children. This is not stopping me), but rest assured, I still give the listed authors total credit for their imagination and in no way claim it as mind. Any characters you do not recognize are mine... probably.

* * *

The thin blankets were tangled around his legs. Harry grunted as he scissored his legs, trying to separate them from their cotton prison. He rolled over onto his stomach and buried his head deep into the pillow, his glasses pressing uncomfortably into the bridge of his nose.

Deep breath. Another. Focus.

Harry pictured a bright white light in his mind, eradicating every thought, every feeling, every sensation from his mind in a blaze of energy until all that remained was black. He let himself swim in the black, looking for any rabbit hole he could travel down that would empty into the mind of the man- no, the entity; he wasn't a man anymore- of a megalomanic mass murderer. It was exactly what he wanted to be doing on the balmy July evening. Harry rooted deep, searching for that familiar pull into a past; a present; a future that included the haunting figure of Lord Voldemort.

Deep breath. Another. Focus. Nothing.

Harry turned back over and ripped the spectacles from his face. They clattered on the hardwood floor, echoing in the dark. Sweat beaded on his forehead, Harry pulled his night shirt off and lay on the bed. He pounded the bed sharply with his fist and sat up in bed. He reached out with his right hand to grasp the picture frame. Once, the silver frame only bordered a moving memorial to his parents, but now, it held the picture from his parents wedding.

James sneaking kisses, placing them on her lips, her cheek, her neck. Lily holding onto James's arm with one hand and with the other rubbing her stomach, a knowing smirk on her face. Remus draping his arms around an unknown woman, whispering something into her ear and winking at Sirius. Harry's fingers tightened around the silver as he watched Sirius move across the black and white photograph. Dark hair flapping in the wind over jovial eyes he knew were blue as the rushing river. Winking back at James. Flirting with unknown bridesmaids. Nudging Pettigrew.

Harry could feel the fires of his anger stoke at the sight of the young Peter Pettigrew. The stocky, short towhead of a man looked absolutely incongruous with the dirty, evil bastard of a year ago. All smiles; straightening his tie and nudging Sirius back. He couldn't think of words that could express his absolute hatred of the man that had sold out his parents, sent Sirius to prison for 12 years, and had stolen the protection his mother died for from his blood. And yet, the death of his parents could never be as devastating as the loss of Sirius. Sad, but true, Harry thought. He hadn't known his parents- he had known Sirius, and while he was only a godfather, that fact gave Sirius the slight edge of being the fuel that drove Harry to finally go on the offensive and try to claw his way into Voldemort's psyche.

Harry put the frame down reverentially on the side table and rolled to the other side of the bed. Reaching down under the bed, he uncovered a book and dropped in onto his lap. Bunching the pillow as much as he could under his head, he flipped open _The Best Offense Is A Good Defense_ to where he had last read and twirled his wand in his fingers. Lifelike diagrams moved across the page depicting shielding charms that bounced spells in controllable manner. Harry tracked the movements on the page with his wand tip, rolling the words off of his tongue. He closed his eyes and traced the movement in the air, muttering the words under his breath. The tip of his wand glowed gently and a small, filmy bubble grew from the end, encasing Harry and the bed as it expanded. Unable to prove if it worked, he ended the spell and flipped the page. Onto the next one.

* * *

Hermione clutched her quill, her hands slippery from the sweat that came with the hours of scribbling she had done. The rich mahogany floors and expanses of book shelves buried the sound of the scratch of dried keratin on parchment as it had done for hours. She slipped a bottle of water from her satchel and drained the meager contents, letting it plop down onto her bag carelessly. Books stacked high on either side of her hunched frame. She was thinner than she had been at the end of term- a healthy dose of near-death experience coupled with a continuing diet of fear would do that to anyone, she'd imagine. If she had been the superficial type, she might have taken advantage of her new figure. As it was though, she was a bit preoccupied. 

She ran a hand through her bush of hair and, pulling a neatly sharped pencil from her bag, she spun her hair into a messy bun. She pulled out a parchment from underneath her pile and began checking off books. _Applications of Advanced Potions Theory; Thaumatological Dynamics; Predicting Possible Side Effects in Experimental Magic; Flesh, Bone, Blood, Love- Theories in Spellwork and Sacrifice; Arithmancy in Motion- Equations for Life; _and_ A Study of Transfiguration and Anatomy _were checked off of the list, and she slipped the book off the very top of the left hand pile- _Protect Yourself: A Guide To Personal Defense_ into her bag. She gathered up her parchment and neatly added them next to her book and strolled out of Worthing-Hartford Library on the Professional University of Magic campus. "An excellent choice, Miss Granger. Standard text for Auror training everywhere." Hermione stopped and let the suited gentleman catch up with her. He was easily into his 30's, his dark, closely cut hair was free of gray, but his green eyes were already crinkling at the edges. He wore a charcoal gray suit, the jacket open and revealing a pressed shirt and brilliant blue tie. "That is why I chose it, Mr. Green," Hermione answered, resuming her pace towards the entryway into Muggle Victoria, British Columbia. Mr. Green tapped the bricks in the wall and they danced apart to reveal a dilapidated store room and at the end, the gleaming steel doors of an elevator. Hermione stuck her wand into a inconspicuous hole to the right and the doors slid open. They rode up several floors and reemerged in a decadent corridor. Clipping down the marble, gleaming pillars and cherry panelling, one would hardly guess that this building housed the entrance into wizarding Victoria instead of some high-powered, Fortune 500 company. But it did, and Hermione in her fluttery skirt and Mr. Green in his business attire hardly looked out of place as they walked out onto the muggle streets.

A towncar awaited their arrival and the two ducked into the black Lincoln. It was a short ride from the wizarding border to the ferry and then a longer one from Victoria to Vancouver by boat, and then on to the new Granger estate outside of Whistler. Hermione and Mr. Green had discussed the stuff she had been looking through in _Protect Yourself_; Mr. Green giving a few quick demonstrations despite the confines of the back seat. Hermione drank it up, furiously taking notes on wand movements on the parchment balanced on her knees. The towncar rolled to a halt on the gravel of the driveway and the door swung open. The three story home looked out of place among the trees- the pale green aluminum siding looking about as earthly as a tin Christmas tree. The balcony overhanging the two car garage carried two, carefully trimmed hydrangea bushes and the figure of Mr. Granger. Dressed in a ridiculous, red-gingham apron with lacy ruffles and waving a spatula, he smiled before dipping back inside. Hermione trampled up the steps, licked her hand and placed it on the large metal plate outside the door. The black plate above it projected her name in a flash of red light, and the door faded into a faded tan mist. She stepped through and the door resumed it's original form.

They had been there for three weeks. Two weeks after the end of term, death threats started arriving at the house- letters by owl, a howler or two. Crookshanks had turned up on the front steps, dead by the Killing Curse, finally signaling the authorities. After light security had been assigned, the ultimate threat was made. The Dark Mark turned up at the Granger's dentistry practice, the receptionist's heart cut out and removed- without breaking the skin.

Despite Dumbledore's best efforts, he could not convince the Grangers to go into hiding. They did, however, realize that staying in Britain would not be the safest decision in the world. So, in conjunction with the astoundingly helpful Canadian wizarding body, the Grangers vanished from the British Isles and reappeared in a quite expensive cottage in the woods of British Columbia. The entire downstairs converted into a surveillance room; the extra bedroom converted into a panic room; magical id panels at every possible entrance into the house; a permanent house guest in British Auror Matthias Green; and three Canadian Aurors on the grounds at all times- every precaution had been taken to protecting her family. Had Hermione not been preoccupied, she might have wondered why such opulent measures had been taken to protect her family. But as such, she was a bit singleminded.

Nathaniel Granger was incredibly fond of movies. Perhaps the word obsessive would be more appropriate- every Friday night was movie night in the Granger household, and despite being pretty much barred from outdoor activity, the miracle of digital cable kept the tradition strong. It was on such an occasion that Hermione happened upon one of her father's favorite directors in his newest movie. She had slid down next to him on the couch and let him throw an arm around her shoulders, tuking her gently under his wing. She watched the blood and the majesty; the determination and dedication with an awed and calculating mind. She watched for hours, noting the lack of compassion and the emotional detachment with which the hero cut down every person to stand in her way. By the end of the movie, she was convinced.

She wasn't going to Kill Voldemort. But she was going to Kill Someone. With the man who nearly killed her rotting away for the moment in Azkaban, she'd settle for the nearest Death Eater. Any Death Eater. She hoped it would be Lucius Malfoy; as long as it wasn't Bellatrix Lestrange. She was for Harry or Neville, preferably both.

So, Hermione was preparing. She ransacked her parents library of surgeries on video (father's impulse buy) and watched them endlessly, devoiding herself of any squickness she had for the dicing of the human body. She had Mr. Green training her on hand to hand combat. And her mental library of spells was only exceeded by the knowledge she now had on the movement and nature of the fundamental particle of magic- the thaum. 'Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me,' the old adage went. She was never fooled twice.

* * *

Author Notes: Here I go again- testing the waters. Show the love for the writing style cause obviously, you can't show the plot love yet -


	2. Neville and Ron

The wind blew through the sheer blue curtains in the dark, twisting the folds into the shape of dementors in the moonlit room. The drapes were drawn on the massive four-poster bed, heavy and deep purple to match the wallpapered room; all except for one side. The furthest away from the window was pulled and fastened against the stark birch of the bed frame, and an elderly, embroidered chair faced it proudly. Sleeping soundly in the bed lay Audrey Longbottom, her frail body tucked under a pile of gently frayed patchwork quilts with the exception of her face. Long gray hair spilled over the lavender pillowcases, and her lips were pinched into a frown, her breath wheezing in her chest as she shivered in the slight breeze. Neville pulled the topmost quilt tighter around her shoulders and settled back into the ancient armchair. He checked the gleaming gold clock hanging from the wall nearest the door and heaved a deep sigh. Neville crossed the room to the chest of drawers and removed the cap from the bottle sitting atop it. He spilled a measured bit into the measuring cup and scuffled towards his grandmother.

"Grandmother- time for you medicine. Grandmother- wake up."

The old woman stirred beneath the covers and rolled onto her back. Her jaw moved slightly agape and Neville tipped the dulled red liquid into her mouth. Before he could pull the cup away, she was already back asleep. A sigh echoed through the dark room as Neville placed the cap on the bed table and slumped back into the chair.

It had been a tough month since he returned home. When the common, garden-variety pneumonia had hit his grandmother not 2 days into vacation, Neville hadn't been too worried. As anyone who knew Mrs. Longbottom could tell you, she was the toughest of old birds. But at the ripe age of 178, the pneumonia seemed to proliferate uncontested by normal potion treatment. Even succumbing to muggle treatment, nothing seemed to deter the bacteria from continually clouding her lungs. Day after day for the last two weeks they had stayed, Neville and his grandmother, in a hospital in Liverpool; his grandmother hooked up to chest tubes and a respirator.

It was, strangely, Mad Eye Moody that had broached the subject of perhaps letting her pass on to the next great adventure. Neville had always felt uncomfortable around the man, his wandering magic eye and scar-encrusted face making the hairs on his neck stand up. But he had been the only person to discuss the thought he had been having since the healer had suggested they try muggle medicine to clear her chest, and he had made an effect on him.

"_There comes a time in every person's life, Neville, when the world holds nothing of interest and you can trust the people you care for to live their lives without your influence. When you come to that time, the end becomes something of curiosity, not fear. Your grandmother may have reached that point."_

He hadn't known why Moody had come to visit his grandmother- as far as he knew, Moody didn't venture often into the muggle world, and he had never seen him at his grandmother's parties. But as he spoke those words in the gruff, gravelly voice, Neville knew they were true. So he had his grandmother discharged with a prescription for pain medication he never filled, and took her home to die. He found 3 bottles of the dull, red painkilling potion resting on their kitchen table with a note from Dumbledore simply saying, "You made the right decision."

So he stayed by her bedside, not trusting the house elves to administer the medication every 6 hours. He wish he could view it with a sense of detachment, but like the gum wrappers he kept from his visits with his mother over the many years, he couldn't completely separate the empty shell of his grandmother with the potential of what she could be. Neville slid himself down in the chair, unwilling to change his grandmother's favorite chair into a bed, and tried to sleep.

* * *

Ron folded over the covers carefully and slid beneath the coolness that the orange cotton provided. He watched the Cannon's line snore peacefully, their little brooms hovering side to side like a metronome. The light dimmed to dark as he felt sleep slowly creeping up on him.

Flashes of blue sky cut with green grass were so vivid, he could nearly smell the peace it brought. He didn't feel he was there, physically. It was more of a sense of watching it go by- like seeing a moving version of history as a ghost. So he watched the crystal blue-green waves smash into the rocks of the cove, breaking like fragments of jewels on the mossy stone with a sort of confused curiosity.

Sheaves of wheat moved in the bright sun on a plain, a house of sticks built on a small hillside overlooking the expanse. The house was hewn from deep red logs, rough and homey. The view slid forward to a barn, the tools handmade but sleek in their lines and blades. Bales of hay feed animals that he can't name- couldn't name even with an advanced Care Of Magical Creatures textbook at his disposal. Shimmering scales on a horse with curled horns and mane that didn't so much as blow in the wind as float, like the air was as thick as water.

An unbelievable tall woman, skin alabaster blue with silver running up her arms all the way to her elbows. Gossamer shift rode high on her thin legs, her feet barefoot. Digits numbering 24 total, each encircled in small bands of silver. Rope, hand woven and spaced with smooth light wooden spheres, looped around a gap in her back like a handle. She stood proud, cerulean and navy hair down to her hips swaying and snapping in the wind. She looked ahead and up, her hand clenched around a staff inlaid with an ivy pattern and swooping, unidentifiable script. The ground trembled beneath her and exploded.

Ron jolted awake, his chest heaving as he fought to inflate his lungs. He felt a shiver run down his spine. He recognized this dream- not for its content, but for its feel. The texture of a memory- stop and go as the mind already knows what interesting bits it should fast forward to.

He'd been having them all summer.

The worst of them had vanished with the ointment Madam Pomfrey had given him after the M.O.M. incident. But the ointment had long since lost his effectiveness, and without a dreamless potion before bed, he'd be sure to have the memories that evening. He couldn't tell if they were his; some sort of proof of reincarnation, or is the brain that attacked him had passed them on to him, like osmosis of information. A concentration gradient aided by the tentacles that had refused to let him go.

He gets over it, every time. The panic in his chest as he jolts away, the worry over faces he can't recognize yet somehow does, the reminder of the scars that now loop his arms like some shiny pink ribbon of new skin. He finds a way to fall back asleep, every night. And when he wakes up in the morning with names on his lips that his tongue can't wrap around and faces behind his eyes that are strange but somehow feel like home, he takes his tea with an extra scoop of sugar and loses himself in the day.


	3. Touch and Go

Ginny groaned as she folded yet another cardboard box, the rough edges scratching harshly against her fingertips as she lost her grip on the edge of a flap. She could hear Ron trudge up the steps, bringing the new shipment of packing materials. She glanced around the room. Cardboard containers, waiting to be filled, littered the immaculate room. There were no posters hanging on the walls, no trinkets to litter the bureau tops. There wasn't really much to pack away- but she was sure that Neville would want his own stuff and not the second hand furniture and knick-knacks that had belonged to Percy.

It almost seemed wrong for her to be in here- no one but her mother came into this room. The air still lingered with Percy: crisp and somehow bursting with correctness. He was always right about the unimportant things.

Ron kicked the door opened and paused at the frame, only for a moment. He walked through and dropped the plastic crates on the ground with a heavy thud on the gray carpet. "Seems weird to be in here. I wonder if this is how George and Fred felt when they had to move Bill and Charlie's stuff out of their room." He bent down and finished off the last box for Ginny. "Somehow, I don't think so," she replied. Ron stood back up and ran a hand across the top of the tall bookcase. He turned back to Ginny, his finger pointed. "Not a bit of dust," he smirked and shook his head. He began pulling the books from the shelf- elderly schoolbooks tortured with spellotape and books on how to succeed. Ginny picked up a box and opened up the closet. With all of Percy's clothes gone, the bar was now taken over by baby clothing, toddler clothing, kid clothing. Little jumpers that they had all worn and outgrown, coveralls and robes that her mother couldn't bear to throw away, party dresses she had saved in the hopes that there would be another little girl somewhere in the future. All in the box. She pulled one out in particular, the red ribbons frayed and tangled on the dainty white lace. She had worn this dress at Percy's 10th birthday.

He had been so different from all the little kids. Quiet and reserved, almost embarrassed by the party around him. The cake arrived and a wide smile cracked on his face. It was a smile she had a hard time remembering- it had been a long time since that wide, infectious grin had been replaced with a snooty, condescending smirk.

"Oi, Ginny. Check this out." Ginny let the dress fall through her fingers and into the crate. She walked over to Ron. He was turning a thick leather book in his hands, inspecting it from every angles. He opened the cover and dust shot out, sprinkling the sunlight with particles. "Percy Ignatius Weasley, Year 18, Diary #2. Did you know Percy kept a diary, Gin?" he asked before flipping through the first couple of pages. Ginny shook her head and stretched up to peer into the journal. Drawings covered the pages- buildings and people, all shaded with an expert hands. Words decorated the margins, all in his super neat, textbook script. "I didn't know he could draw," Ginny said simply. Ron shrugged. "Me neither. Holy... he knew something was up. Look." Ron ran his finger under a line of text.

"Mr. Crouch has been acting strange and secluded as of late. Gareth agrees, but adds that he may be going through a mid-life crisis. Crisis my arse. He's assigned me the same project twice. I've seen stress, and that isn't it. Stress is giving me three extra projects when he knows I already have 3 in the works. I wonder if I should bring this to the Minister's attention. Is this worthy enough to be notified of?"

Ron stopped. "Well, not half as daft as we thought," Ron snapped before closing the book. He let it drop into the box and began to pull the covers off the bed. Ginny picked it back up and flipped through the pages. "Dear God... Ron," Ginny shoved the book back at him. Ron's eyes widened as he read through the last couple of pages. Violent images of kids strapped to beds, needles poking in them. Death eaters firing spells at children, their words in comic bubbles over their head. Cruciatus, Imperius, cutting curses, curses Ron couldn't recognize. And on one page, a single face, etched to almost lifelike quality. Ginny gasped and nearly fell back. Ron dropped the book and bent over her, but Ginny waved him off. "I'm okay, I'm fine," she heaved as she tried to get some breath back into her. Ron gave her a quizzical look. She shook her head and sat up. "How could he... shit, Ron, that was Tom... older, but... Merlin..." Ginny trailed off.

Ron picked up the book and examined the page. The face of the enemy. His eyes had been shaded as dark as the quill would allow, and they seemed to be glaring and smirking from the page. Looking as if he knew exactly how to rip out your soul. The eyes Harry looked into everyday.

Ron turned the page and the neat script became hurried, the drawings rougher. Pictures of the people in action, the same 4 people. A man sits in bed, his arms tied down. A woman in robes talking with friends. The same woman feeding a puppy. Another man reading a book on a lumpy couch. A different woman's face peeking from a sleek car, then from behind a window. Little symbols decorate the page instead of words. And then, pages completely blacked out with ink.

"I have no choice."

"The date he left," Ginny said. Ron turned around abruptly, almost losing his footing in surprise. He had forgotten she was here. "I knew it," he said quietly. His face flushed brilliant red. "I knew he wouldn't... he had a reason for leaving and it wasn't that he thought Dad was a nutter and that denial of You Know Who... I fucking knew it," he spit out. He stood up, fury decorated on his face. He turned back to Ginny suddenly. "There is something going on here, and I'm not staying in the dark about this. Have no choice what?" Ron walked across the carpet and threw open the door. "MUM!" he bellowed. She was already in the doorway, a forlorn look on her face.

"Audrey Longbottom passed away 20 minuted ago." Molly looked around the bedroom and at her furious son. "I need you two to finish up this room soon, Neville's going to be arriving tomorrow." All the passion dropped out of Ron's face. He swung his head towards Ginny, who gave him a pointed look. "Right, mum. 'Course," he replied, before turning to Ginny. She picked up the top most quilt and folded it.

* * *

The day was annoyingly sunny for such a morose occasion. The fog had parted over the cemetery, revealing a brilliant blue sky. Flowers decorated the entire area: graceful lilies, bushy hydrangeas and brilliant violets. Neville couldn't believe how many people had shown up. Great Uncle Algie and his numerous children stood at his side. Old co-workers, a great deal of ministry people he hardly recognized, gathered around the end of the coffin, standing stoic and uncomfortable in black clothes. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, along with Ginny and Ron stood on the other side of the minister, along with Luna Lovegood, Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas.

Neville wiggled a bit in her heavy robe. He wasn't paying much attention to the sermon he was given. He wasn't paying much attention to anything. His fingers twiddled around in his pocket, his hand clutching around a scrap of paper. A wrapper. He imagined his grandmother thought it would be a comfort with her edge of humor. It only served to reiterate the fact that he was alone in the world, with only a candy wrapper to show for it. She had given it to him and smiled. "You will be fine, my boy. I always thought... but I know you will be alright." She hadn't spoken in a month and she hadn't spoken since. A cousin of his nudged him from behind and jolted Neville from his reverie. He looked up at the expectant faces and felt all the color drain from his face. He cleared his throat and closed his eyes.

"Thank you all for attending this morning. I know that she would have appreciated all of your sentiment, and would have haunted you for the rest of your days had you not attended." A quiet giggle went through the group and Neville gave a wry smile. "I just wanted to thank all of you for your support and concern the last couple of months." He ran out of words; he gave a small bow and looked back up to the priest, who concluded the funeral.

He shook hands with people he could hardly recollect. He gave a small grin when his classmates came up. "Sorry to hear about your gran, Nev," Seamus gave him a pat on the back. Neville shook his head and gave a small smile. "Thanks for coming, guys. I really appreciate it," he said softly. "Eh, what are friends for?" Dean replied, shaking his hand and thumping him gently on the shoulder. Ginny gave Dean a kiss on the cheek and went to hug Neville. She pulled him in tight and rubbed his back like her mom would do with them. Neville's eyes closed and he seemed to take the hug in and relax. "We got the room all ready for tonight- Dad went over earlier today to get your furniture," Ron said quietly, giving him a manly hug. "Your moving in with Ron?" Seamus asked. Neville nodded. "Dumbledore thinks it'll be safer," Neville replied. Nothing else needed to be explained- Dean and Seamus had heard bits and pieces of the sixth year incident from Ron, Neville and Ginny. "Eh, me and Dean went in on a bit of a present for you," Seamus reached into his robes and pulled out a smallish bottle of Ogden's Old. Neville's face broke into a smile and he patted Seamus on the back. "You're such a git. Thanks, guys." He took the bottle and ripped off the top. He took a slash and felt it burn down his throat. He handed the bottle back to Seamus and took in a breath. "Save it for the reception," Neville said gruffly before being swept away by a relative.

A few hours later had found Ron, Ginny and Neville in Neville's new bedroom. The bottle of Ogden's was gone, and Neville eye's were awfully unfocused. He was slumped against the wooden bedframe, his hand tracing circles on the carpet. Ron was leaning against the bookshelf, his ears matching Ginny's red nose. She was nearly passed out in the frayed armchair next to the closet. "Oh... mum's going to hex me tomorrow when we all walk down to breakfast completely hungover," Ron wailed, taking a glass of water from an empty shelf and downing it. "I don't care. I feel much...well, I'm not feeling much now below my neck... but my arm's moving... that's strange," Neville remarked, his head lolling about the overhanging comforter. A loud snort came from the armchair and Ginny fell out of it. She hit the ground with a thud and she clutched her head. "I think I'm going to hex you tomorrow. How could you let me drink all that?" Ginny complained, having a hard time trying to get up on her knees. "Do you think Seamus, Dean and Luna are gonna be okay?" Ron asked to no one in particular. Silence. "Yeah. Bugger 'em," he answered himself.

"Where's Harry and Hermione?" Neville asked, suddenly alert. "Oh... Hermione's somewhere... no'ne will tell us. Harry's being Mr. Depressed and isn't taking his letters," Ginny replied, having given up on standing and resolving herself to be kneeling with her head on the ground. Neville nodded. Tears started to go down his cheeks. "I miss my gran," he mumbled and tried to drink the empty bottle of Ogden's. Ron stumbled over and slid down with a grunt next to Neville. He looped an arm around his shoulders. "No worries... she's in a good place. With a vulture hat on," he remarked seriously. Ginny fell over and looked at Neville from the ground. "Yeah, Nev. It'll be okay. We'll take care of ya now," Ginny reached out and patted the only piece of Neville she could reach- his foot. Neville smiled and let his head smack back against the wood. "Alright, let's get you to bed, Nev." Ron pushed himself upright and gripped Neville around the arms, lugging him up and tossing him on the bed. He groaned as Ron pulled off his shoes and moved his legs onto the bed. "Night Ron, Night Gin," Nev mumbled from the pillow. Ron bent down and put his arms under Ginny's shoulders and knees. She snorted loudly and started snoring as Ron lifted her up and carried her out of the room.

Author's Note: The plot has thickened slightly, like jello after adding the cold water... mmmm, jello... review please! I wuv you!


	4. Work and Other Such Lies

The car ride was ultimately silent. Sure, the road was bumpy and the suspension system on the town car was taking a hit, gravel kicking up at the windows and doors, the faint buzz of magic shields thrumming around the car; but, the silence of the people around her drowned out any flippant, outdoor noise. Her mother had her arm around her- soft blue cashmere as fluffy as her black hair- and was absentmindedly stroking her arm. Mr. Granger sat across, his eyes gazing from Hermione back to the outside world. Mr. Green sat next to him, changing positions every now and again, giving Hermione comforting looks. Hermione just stared at the leather meeting the rough fabric of the floor.

She felt drained. Completely drained.

The car pulled up alongside the entrance to Vancouver International and before she knew it, they were standing in front of the security checkpoint. Mr. Green carried a simple leather tote, slung over his chest like a business man and his laptop. She hugged her dad. Hugged her mum. The movable gray panels that separated the security lines seemed to suck all the emotion out of the situation.

Hermione pulled away from her mother's embraced and tried to memorize her face. Soft brown eyes, frizzy black hair, high cheekbones, rounded jaw. Her thin lips contorted into a similar thoughtfulness. Scared, strong and loving. Her mum kissed her on the cheek and she could feel how much her mum was trying not to panic, not to take her in her arms and steal her away from the war. A part of Hermione almost wanted her to.

But she didn't. And with the promise of a letter once she reached London, she boarded the plane with only a short glance back. Mr. Green patted her on the shoulder and led her to her seat. It would be a long flight.

* * *

The sun hit Harry hard, but he didn't mind. If anything, it pushed him further. His glasses were resting on a lawn chair, Harry's eyes closed in concentration. The high fence of the backyard hid the lithe boy's darting figure. He seem to be following a very strange, very jerk dance. Dipping and rolling on the grass. Darting behind the birch tree, back to back with the bark, a twig in his hand, his mouth twisting around spells. From behind the tree, his hand swept into graceful move after graceful move. Figure eight, snap of the wrist, draw it up, punch forward, his tongue spitting spells without saying a word.

"Hullo, Harry."

Harry recognized the voice- lucky he did, or Remus Lupin would have been on the receiving end of a stick through the chest. Or at least a stick to the chest. Lupin looked more haggard than ever. His black robes were frayed and worn, patched with blacks of other robes in various stages of dilapidation. His hair was gray and thin over his worn blue eyes. He gave Harry a bit of a half-smile before removing the glasses from the lawn chair and having a seat.

"I'm not leaving. I'm not going back there."

Lupin shrugged. "I don't blame you. Fortunately, the Burrow's wards have been increased." He didn't add anything to that, just slumped as dignified as he could into the green and orange cushion and stared at the blue sky. "That doesn't change anything. I'm still not leaving," Harry replied blandly as he snatched his glasses from Lupin's hand. Lupin face was a blank- he still looked at the sky.

"Have you gotten any letters from Hermione? Ron wanted me to ask you that," Lupin said simply, not moving a muscle to meet Harry's quizzical glance. Harry looked back towards the house. He hadn't looked at any of his letters. When he turned his head back, Lupin was giving him a pointed look. "Not sure? Are all of your letters piled up in your room?" he asked without malice. Harry eyes narrowed. Lupin stood up and breezed by him, back into the house.

Petunia Dursley stood at the oven, pulling a cake out of the oven. She twisted to put it on the rack and came, rather abruptly, face to face with Remus. She nearly dropped the cake on the linoleum. "I hadn't realized you were still here, Remus," she said, trying hard to be civil and failing a bit. Harry raised an eyebrow to see his aunt address Lupin by his first name. "I shouldn't be here much longer, Petunia," he remarked gently as he left the kitchen and headed up the staircase. Harry trailed after him up the stairs and paused at the door as Lupin went in.

Books were stacked on his bed, the bed sheets neatly made. No clothes on the floor, no empty dishes on surfaces. The only thing messy about the area was a small pile of letters, the majority of what could be seen addressed in the messy, loopy scrawl of Ron's. Lupin pulled a letter from the top, the black parchment engraved in silver script. He cradled the message in his hand before handing it to Harry. "Audrey Longbottom died two days ago. Neville has already moved into the Burrow." He searched the pile further and picked up a letter neatly addressed in careful cursive. "Ah, here it is." Lupin pocketed the letter and went to walk out the bedroom door.

Harry watched all this in utter confusion. He opened the invitation and read through it. Neville's gran alright. When he heard thumps going further away, Harry chased down the stairs to watch Lupin bidding his farewells to his aunt. "Where are you going?" he demanded before he could catch himself. Lupin looked up at him surprised. "You said you weren't leaving. Did you expect me to drag you away kicking and screaming? You are more than welcome to stay at the Burrow; I'm sure nothing would make Molly happier, let alone Ron and Ginny. But if you'd rather stay here, then by all means. Tonks said she would have no trouble picking you up the day before term started." Lupin looked up at him, the same blank mask of indifference he had his entire stay.

He was being manipulated and he knew it. Harry wasn't dumb- this was reverse psychology. He loathed the idea of being pestered by Ron, Ginny and apparently Neville about how he was feeling and how he was doing, and if there was anything they could do for him.

Hold Voldemort down while he cursed the life out of him. Harry winced as he thought it. He didn't want that, not really. He wanted the lot of them as far away from him and Voldemort as possible. Petunia gave him a sharp look before turning back to Remus. "Be sure to tell them he's being taken care of," she nearly shouted, beginning to close the door. He didn't really want to stay.

Lupin looked back up at him. Harry glared at him. His eyebrows shrugged as he walked onto the doorstep and Petunia shut the door.

1. 2. 3.

Lupin didn't come back in. He waited an entire minute. Harry fumed- he couldn't believe that he had just left him here. "Fine," he spat and clomped up the stairs. He threw open the door and slammed it behind him, collapsing on his bed. Harry growled and turned his head to keep from choking on his pillow.

"I suppose that means you're ready to come now?" Lupin stood in the doorway, a small, but wry smile on his face.

* * *

The lights above his head flickered annoyingly. The glare from the lacquered desk was thankfully cancelled out by the coating on his glasses. His inbox was high, but not nearly as high as the outbox, which seemed impossibly steady and neat for its height. Percy Weasley sat in his ergonomically designed, high backed chair, his head pressed backwards against the headrest. He pulled the square horn-rims from his face and pressed a thumb and forefinger across the bridge of his nose. He opened his eyes and tossed a small globe at the ceiling. The paperweight bounced off the casing of the light and dropped back into his hand- the light quit flickering.

He pulled a quill from the top drawer of his desk and set it upon the paper. It stood stock straight. Percy slipped the glasses back on his face and leaned forward.

"It has come to the attention of this office that certain illicit affairs involving you and Mr. Eamon Babcock, proprietor of Babcock, Thames and Lundgrave Exports, 1821 Knockturn Alley, London. According to financial records obtained by subpoena in the case People vs. Babcock, Thames and Lundgrave Exports, several thousand galleons were paid out to you on a monthly basis. We would appreciate your remarks on this discretion at your earliest convenience."

The quill scribbled furiously across the paper as Percy spoke slow and loud. He stretched his arms out and rolled the bit of parchment up. He tagged it with the Minister's seal and charmed it for the 6th floor. He checked the clock. 4:56 pm. Just as the memo had reached the door, the door swung open to reveal the minister himself, Cornelius Fudge. The memo sharply bounced off his purple bowler and continued its way to the elevators. Fudge shot the memo and look of annoyance before refocusing his attention on Percy. "Ah, Mr. Weasley. Glad I caught you before you left."

Percy hadn't left the office before nine the last two months for just this particular reason.

"There are a few reports that have just come in from Minister Peregeaux that I want you to review and just, you know, jot down the highlights for me. If you could have that done before you leave," he spoke as he dropped about 15 thick rolls of parchment on his desktop. Percy looked back at Fudge, who gave him a piercing gaze. Percy gave a small huff as he took the first roll and broke the seal. "Of course, Minister." Fudge nodded approvingly, but the pointed look didn't vanish. "Good evening, Mr. Weasley." Fudge swished out of the room, the door shutting soundly behind him. Percy's grip tightened around the parchment roll. 'Deep breath... it's fine,' he repeated to himself.

It had never been this bad, but since the resurgence of... Percy could hardly think his name. In any case, Fudge had been more watchful than ever, waiting for some sign that Percy would snap. But that wasn't going to happen; he wouldn't let it. Percy let the roll fall into his lap and leaned back in his chair, his mind switching gears from English into French. It would be another night of overtime.

Author's Notes: Is anyone out there reading this? Am I performing an exersize in futility? Well, even if you don't review, thank you for reading this and giving me purpose.


	5. Traffic Cones and Fisticuffs

Neville had never actually seen red-hot chili marbles, but if he had, they would have described his eyes perfectly. "Oh my god. I think my eyes are slowly disintegrating in the smoldering fire in my head." Neville rolled on the bed, promptly falling out of it onto the carpeted floor. He picked himself up slowly and looked around, very confused for a moment. It hit him.

"Oh bloody hell." He peeled off the white collared shirt and tossed it on the ground. Well... rather, on a traffic cone. Neville blinked before picking the item off of the bright orange plastic. "What the hell is this and why is it in my room?" He tried to think back to where he had received such an item, but it only made his head hurt more. A sharp knock echoed through his head terribly. "I'm up, I'm up," Neville exclaimed as he toddled to the door. Ron was behind it, freshly showered and wearing an orange bathrobe. "Blimey, Neville! You smell horrible," Ron cried out, thrusting the towels into his arms. "Not so loud, Ron! You look like you've been tromped upon by Buckbeak," Neville yelled back, cradling his head in his hand. Ron smirked before picking up the traffic cone. "Do you have any clue where I got that? Or what it is?" Ron smiled before setting it in front of the closet. "It was Seamus's shoe. It is now a traffic cone... whatever that is," Ron shrugged. Neville looked at Ron. "Remind me never to drink again."

Neville emerged from the shower feeling slightly better. He flopped down the three flights of stairs and walked into the kitchen. If Ron and Neville had looked horrific this morning, Ginny had them beat. She looked like the living dead, her head hung over a cup of coffee and thick sunglasses over her eyes. Fluffy purple earmuffs were extended over her head. Limp hair pooled on the table. She groaned loudly before, with much effort, she took a sip of the black coffee. She winced. "Lucky your mum and dad aren't here, Ron. Ginny, are you alright?" Ginny pulled off her glasses and glared with bloodshot eyes. "Right. I think I'll have what she's having," Neville replied before sinking into a seat across from Ginny. Ron brought two cups to the table and slid one to Neville. "Gin, drink it up. I don't fancy getting lectured by Hermione first thing this afternoon and the sooner you drink it, the sooner you'll stop feeling like shite," Ron advised before taking his own sip. His face contorted into pain; he nearly spit it out. "See," was all Ginny said. Ron glared and threw the entire mug of Hangover Joe down his throat. Neville shrugged and followed suit. "Oh..." Neville started before shooting up and running to the sink. He closed his eyes, turned on the cold tap and started washing his mouth out. Ron ran over and pushed him aside, drinking the water down.

They both pulled back from the sink, both a bright magenta. The color slowly faded as they both slid down into their seats, both heads crashing to the table. After a moment, Neville looked up thoughtfully. "You know, I think it worked." Ron looked up from the table and squinted. He sat up a bit straighter and smiled. "Yeah. I think it did. Just chug the entire thing, Gin." Ginny shot him a death stare from behind the glasses and sat up a bit. She picked up the cup warily and started drinking it. Her throat bobbed with the gulps and tears started to leak down her cheeks, but she finished the cup. She shot up like a bottle rocket and ran to the sink, spinning the cold tap and dunking her head underneath it. Neville looked over at Ron, who shrugged before standing up. He put a comforting hand on her back and began to rub circles across it. He shut off the water and Ginny raised her head out of the sink. She looked around quizzically before peeling the earmuffs from her head. "Oh thank god it worked," she sighed, turning and resting against the counter.

"So Hermione's coming?" Neville asked. "Harry and Hermione apparently, though Harry is coming with Lupin later this evening," Ron replied, nervous tension stretching across his face. "I haven't had more than 2 words from Hermione all this summer and none at all from Harry." Ron looked down at the table before snatching an apple from the bowl in the middle. He munched it thoughtfully. Neville nor Ginny could think of anything to say to that, so they each grabbed their own apple and started eating them.

"So, what do you think we should do about Percy's diary?" Ginny spouted suddenly between mouthfuls. Neville looked surprised, but Ron didn't. "I thought you weren't... talking... to Percy... well..." Neville trailed off, looking a bit sheepish. Ron shook his head. "We were cleaning the rest of his stuff out of your room and we found a diary from fourth year. Me and Gin were flipping through it and we came across some very disturbing images." Neville looked at the two of them quizzically, so Ginny ran upstairs. She came down presently and gave the leather book to Neville. He flipped through the pages and halted on the morning after the Tri-Wizard Tournament. A young child tied down to a bed, a large needle sticking out his chest. It was quick and sketched. He flipped the page and, instead of words, neatly printed symbols covered the page. He looked through it- Ginny kept her distance, but Ron finished off his apple while reading it over his shoulder. Neville came up to the last page written in and looked up at Ginny. "What the hell is all that?" he asked. Ginny shrugged. "We're not sure, but I think that we should have a talk with him. At the ministry, do you think?" Ron replied, looking over at Ginny. "Yeah, how do we get there? 'Yes, Dad, do you suppose we could come with you to work so we could talk to Percy?' Pull the other one," she guffawed, tossing her apple core away.

A cloud of dust shot out from the fireplace and suddenly, Mrs. Weasley stood in all her glory. Then, Hermione stood at the grate, her trunk thunking down on the floor next to her. A sharply dressed gentlemen poofed out of the fire next to her. Ginny ran over and threw her arms around Hermione, who hugged back slightly warily. Ron walked over and gave her a hug as well, concern written all over his face. "Hermione?"

She seemed to snap out of whatever she was focused on and took a look at Ron. "Hello Ron," she said wearily, but with a small smile. Hermione caught the eye of Neville and let go of Ron. "I read about your grandmother in the paper, Neville. Are you doing alright?" she asked, the old Hermione shining through. Neville nodded. "Thanks. I guess so," he remarked and looked amazed as Hermione hugged him too. "I'll just get your things up to Ginny's room, shall I?" Molly remarked and, with a wave, the luggage was floating up the stairs. "Now, Mr. Green, let me fix you a cup of tea," she added, walking over to the counter. She looked at the pot on the stove and opened the top.

"Ron, what is this?" Molly asked, surprisingly puzzled. Ginny's eyes widened. "Oh, it's just coffee, Mrs. Weasley. I got used to drinking it at the hospital," Neville pipped up suddenly. Molly's face softened. "Of course dear. Are you finished with it?" she said sweetly, bringing the pot over to the sink. He nodded and she dumped it out- Ron's face flushed with thanks. "Exploding Snap?" Ginny tried not to chuckle as she pulled Ron out of the kitchen. Neville pocketed the diary as he got up from his seat. The four students tromped upstairs.

"What happened, Hermione?" Ginny asked when they reached Neville's room. Hermione's face went grim as she heard the question. "Where did you get a traffic cone?" she asked, ignoring the question. "It was Seamus's shoe. Long story," Ron answered, sitting down on Neville's bed. Hermione sat down next to him, Neville plopping down in the antique armchair. Ginny wasn't to be easily deterred. "I don't get one note from you the entire summer!" she spat. Ron looked at her strangely and shot her a warning look. "Ginny..." Ron growled slightly. He turned back to Hermione, who had an empty look in her eyes.

"Death Eaters found out where we lived. Left the body of Crookshanks on my doorstep. Threatening letters, the lot. So we were moved." Emotion was drained from her voice and she had a hard look to her. Ginny's jaw dropped along with Neville's. Ron's eyes were closed in exasperation. "You knew?" Ginny asked, and Hermione turned to look at him, a surprised look on her face. "You knew?" she mimicked Ginny. Ron shook his head. "It isn't important. What is important is that you're okay. And your parents?" he fended off the question with one of his own. Hermione looked at her feet. "They aren't happy with any of it- moving, me coming back. But it really is for the best," she replied.

"In any case, they aren't going to get another chance at me," she added sharply before standing up. She walked over to the wooden bookshelf and set herself behind it. She wound back and, with a primal "hyah," her fist went through the 3/4 inch thick board. The top shelf crumbled down on one side, Neville's Rememberall sliding down the decline. Hermione caught it neatly and set it on a functional shelf. At this, Ron's jaw did drop. "Bloody hell, Hermione," he almost-whispered reverentially, with Ginny and Neville nodding. She cracked her knuckle and gave a wry smile. "Well, it's really only for an emergency," she blushed slightly, before checking herself and emptying her face of emotion. "That's really amazing, Hermione. You could do hand-to-hand combat at the D.A. this year," Neville congratulated. She seemed to consider it. "Watch this," she smiled slyly and went back to the bookcase.

"You drank the entire bottle?" Harry could hear Hermione's voice on the other side of the door. "Seamus and Dean went half on it, for me. I wasn't going to drink the whole bottle, but after the reception..." Neville's voice trailed off sadly. "In any case, Seamus said we should all do a shot in memorial to Mrs. Longbottom, so we did. Even Luna, though that was the only one she had, but trust me, it was enough. But after the first shot, Dean said that since Neville did one by himself at the end of the funeral we had to catch up, but Neville didn't want to be left out, so he did one too. And then we spent the rest of the night playing catch-up to him," Ginny's voice chimed in. Harry stood outside the door, listening hesitantly to Hermione's abject horror and Ginny's giggles.

"You going to go in and say hi?"

Harry turned to see Ron carrying a sack of Bertie Botts, looking at him solemnly. Harry reached reluctantly for the knob before Ron stopped him. "Don't go in there if you're angry, Harry. Hermione and Neville have had enough to deal with lately and they don't need that right now." Harry's eyes narrowed. "Well, I guess I won't be talking to THEM much this summer then, will I?" Harry spat, turning on his heels and climbing up the stairs to Ron's Attic. Ron heaved a sigh before opening the door. He tossed the bag to Neville and sat down on the floor. "Harry's here. He's a little edgy right now, I'd give him some space," Ron said, his eyes dark. Hermione got to her feet. "Seriously. Leave it out, Hermione. Let's not start out this visit with a fight." Neville looked up at Ron a little weird as he asked for the journal.

"He's been like this all summer. All of a sudden, he's grown an intuition," Ginny whispered to Hermione as Ron walked over to the bed. He sat down next to her on the bed and opened up the journal. He flipped through until he hit the lines and lines of symbols. "Have a look at this. Tell me what you think." Ron handed her the journal with the page saved and Hermione looked it over. "Looks like some sort of code. I mean, some of the letters look familiar; the v, except it has a bunch of lines in different locations surrounding it; an o; and 8. There isn't a key?" Hermione asked, flipping through the pages. She came across one of the disturbing pictures and stopped. "Oh dear God," Hermione said, clutching her mouth.

It was a detailed sketch of a young child tied to a wall, cut all over its body, blood trailing down and pooling on the floor. "What on Earth is this?" Hermione asked, taken-aback. He let the book flop over and he opened the cover. "Percy?!" She shouted in disbelief. "Welcome to the confusion. We're thinking about going down to the ministry to have a talk with him. Look at the last page," Ginny said, reaching over and flipping to the last entry. She looked at it. "Ginny said this one," Ron flipped through the pages, "is of You Know Who." At the mention of that name, Neville sat up. "Wait, you didn't show me that one!" he cried before jumping out of his seat to have a look. "We don't know who all the other pictures are of. The more mundane ones and the more... disturbing ones. But that's definitely Tom Riddle," Ginny pointed out, her voice slightly week and a shiver going through her spine. The four of them looked at the picture and a silence swept over all of them. The didn't need to ask the question. Why was Percy drawing pictures of Lord Voldemort?

"I've got to use the loo," Neville said, suddenly standing up from his spot next to Ginny. He walked out of the door and shut it behind him. He laid against the wall, slowly sliding down until he was piked on the wooden floor. Deep breaths; almost hyperventilating. Images of the D.O.M. incident weighed heavily on his mind- seeing those burning red eyes shine out from the terrifying face. That he had once looked human, handsome; he just needed some air. Unlike the three in the room, he hadn't been dealing with You Know Who and his Death Eaters since the age of 11- he was rather new to this. A creak revived him from his metal spiral, and he looked up to see Harry. He stood on the stairs with a look of confusion on his face. "Hey Harry," Neville stated with a rather hollow tone. Harry clomped down the stairs and stood next to Neville.

"Sorry to hear about your grandmother," Harry offered with a slight edge of remorse. Neville didn't bother looking at him. "Thanks," he replied, but said nothing else. "How did she die?" Harry asked quietly, after a brief period of silence. "Pneumonia... but I think it was just her time to go." Harry gave a little guffaw. "Lucky," he muttered. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Neville stood up and fixed Harry with a mean stare. "Nothing, forget it," Harry said, shaking his head and turning to walk up stairs. Neville grabbed his shoulder and slammed him against the wall. "What, my loss is unimportant next to the great, ever-suffering Harry Potter? You aren't the only one that get's to feel loss, you know. Just cause she was old it was _okay_ for her to die?" Neville spat angrily. Harry looked shocked for all of two seconds. Then those green eyes dimmed. "She lived her life, her entire life, didn't she? It's more than most people seem to get," Harry snapped back, pushing Neville off of him. He bounced off of the wall with a surprising amount of composure and swung.

An audible crack, a crash of glass. In a flash, Ron was outside shoving Neville back into his room, nearly taking out Ginny and Hermione's eavesdropping frames in the process, slamming the door behind him. He grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him downstairs, not speaking the entire way. He threw him into a kitchen chair, reached into the icebox and pulled out an ice cream sandwich. "Here, put this on your eye," Ron tossed it to him before fishing around in the cupboard. He pulled out a small bottle and, pulling the cork out, he emptied the bright green contents onto a towel. Ron pulled the sandwich from his eye and replaced it with the doctored towel. He put the ice cream sandwich on top of it and replaced Harry's hand. He sat down as Harry glared at him.

"You handled that well," Ron said quietly. "Don't start, Ron," Harry spat, standing up and pushing the chair he was sitting in across the room. "Calm down, you shouldn't be moving around with that poultice on your eye," Ron added, getting up and standing in front of the doorway to the living room. "What, are you going to hit me too?" Harry challenged. Ron stared down at Harry with a sort of apathy, which wasn't hard with almost 7 inches of height separating the two. "I don't know. Are you going to insult the memory of my grandmother the day after her funeral?" Ron asked sharply.

Harry thought about it. Maybe not the best idea ever. He looked down at his feet. He turned around and plopped down into the chair. "Just to let you know, Hermione's been taking some sort of martial arts lessons this summer. So unless you want a fist through your head, I'd think before you speak around her. She practically demolished Neville's bookcase." A look of surprise came over Harry's face. "Really?" he asked in disbelief. Ron nodded, his eyes mirroring Harry's surprise. Harry gave a chuckle, to his surprise. Ron smirked, and Harry couldn't help but smirk back. "You know you were wrong, right?" Ron asked, his eyes twinkling. Harry sighed heavily and nodded. "Shite..." Harry let out and rested his head on his free hand. "Don't go spare... but if you want to talk... you know..." Ron trailed off, gesturing the rest of the sentence. Harry looked up through his free eye. "I don't know Ron. I don't want to talk, I don't want to feel, really. I'm really tired of it," He said wearily. Ron nodded. Ron frowned, but didn't press. He stood up and pounded Harry on the back. "I'll get the lot of them to bed. Come up when you're ready," he grunted strangely before leaving Harry in the kitchen.

Harry picked up the salt shaker and through it against the wall. It shattered into as many fragments as grains of salt.

Author's Note: The heavens have smiled upon me! People actually ARE reading this. Thank you to Filler Bunny Rox, Silver Mirror, willowscribe, db and sibbo for giving me a heads up and telling me to post! You are the fuel of my fire!


	6. Dream A Little Dream, Scheme A Little Sc...

Percy shot up in bed, sweat pouring down his forehead. He tried to catch his breath, his lanky body hanging over his folded legs.

A room dimly lit. Leather straps hung from the concrete walls at various angles in various sizes. Sleek stainless steel cabinets lined the far wall, windows allowing sinister bottles of all colors and sizes to be viewed. Steel table decorated in heavy restraints sat ominously in the middle of the room. He moved closer. Felt his body being bent upon the table, strapped down tightly on his stomach. He wanted move, but his body didn't seem to be able to comply. He turned his head and felt a thick hand grip his neck, turning his head so that his eyes faced directly into the gleaming metal. The hand continued to grasp his neck. He wanted to squirm, wanted to run. Then suddenly, the hand lifted. Before he could react, something dropped onto his neck, and all he knew was pain.

He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes closed. His fingers touched the area tentatively before he dropped his hand to the bed. Percy lifted himself off of the sheets and trudged through the corridor into the small kitchen of his apartment. He put the kettle on and slumped into the only chair. He pinched the bridge of his nose and realized his glasses were still resting on his bed stand. He reached across the table for a quill and opened the diary that permanently rested on the small, round table. He flipped open the diary to a clean page and wrote the date and time on the top before starting to write. Neat little symbols dotted the page as he wrote with a furious pace.

Then he started to sketch.

* * *

Ron shot up in bed, sweat pouring down his forehead. He tried to catch his breath, his lanky body hanging over his folded legs.

"Ron?" A quiet voice echoed in the dark room. Ron turned his head to see Harry, his green eyes alight in the moonlight. "What are you doing awake Harry? You didn't..." Ron trailed off, pulling his knees to his chest. Harry shook his head. "No... I haven't had anything since we left Hogwarts. Not for lack of trying," he guffawed, mimicking Ron's action. "Oh. I guess that's good," Ron remarked. A wry smile cracked on Harry's face. "Not bloody likely." Ron shrugged. The two of them sat in their respective beds in silence. "How come you're awake?" Harry asked. Ron stood up and went to the door, pulling it open slowly with one hand. "Be back," he said simply, spinning around the door and closing it gently.

When the door was closed, he brought his other hand from his side, revealing a leather journal and a quill. He stole down the stairs and slipped into the bathroom. Closing the door and locking it, he sat down on the toilet and flipped open the book. He skipped past Percy's writings and gave several pages between his last entry. He brushed the feather of the quill across the page and chicken scratch appeared beneath the quill. His chicken scratch. He flipped the next couple of pages and found a blank one. He began to write and then, to sketch.

* * *

The first thing Harry did when he woke up was look for Ron. He wasn't in his bed. He got dressed slowly before creeping out the door and down the many flights of stairs.

There was no one at the kitchen table, which further surprised him. He check the clock- Mr and Mrs. Weasley's hands pointed to work. The door behind him creaked open and Harry spun on his heels, his wand at the ready. Neville stood in the doorway, wearing jeans, dragon hide gloves and a frown. "Harry," was all he said before breezing past him to the icebox. Harry turned to follow. "Neville, I'm sorry for what I said last night," Harry said quietly. "Hah! I bet you are. Did Ron tell you to say that?" Neville chuckled maliciously. Harry looked at Neville strangely. Neville pulled a pitcher of lemonade and plonked it onto the table. He walked over to the cabinets and started opening them, searching for glasses. "The one all the way to the right," Harry pointed out softly, opening the correct cabinet. "Look Neville, I've just been stressed. I didn't mean to take it out on you," he tried again. Neville reached across and plucked 4 glasses from the shelf, grabbing a sheet pan and placing all five of the items on it. He put his hands on the table and huffed. "You know, Harry. You aren't the only one in this mess. I know that you're the main character in this, but... God, I don't know, Harry. Make a little allowance for the rest of us in the anger and sorrow department, will you?" Harry leaned against the sink.

"Did you know we have the same birthday?" Harry said suddenly. Neville lifted his head and looked at Harry, who was focused on the ceiling. "No. July 31st?" Neville asked. Harry nodded. "The prophecy... the one from the Department on Mysteries... it wasn't specific, you know. Born as the 7th months wanes. It could have been you, you know. The main character. The Boy Who Lived." Harry's voice was empty of malice, but he kept looking at the ceiling. "All this summer I wondered. What if he had chosen you?" Harry looked down and finally looked at Neville. He had found a seat and was pale. He was focused on the pitcher. "We'd... we'd all be dead. I...," he looked up at Harry, confusion in his watery blue eyes. "But then I really thought about it. And even though... even though Sirius's death..." Harry stopped, turning his attention back up to the ceiling. "It couldn't be nearly as bad as visiting your parents every year and seeing them," he finished.

There was a silence between them, Neville staring at the table, Harry staring at the ceiling. "You're right. But I'm not greedy. You can get your knocks in against Bellatrix Lestrange. Just so long as I get to kill her." Harry's eyes jolted forward. Neville looked up. "I'm sorry. We weren't talking about her, were we," Neville said coldly and stood up. He walked in front of Harry and stopped. "Sometimes, I wondered too. What would it be like to have my parents dead, to have the friends you do, to have the obvious sheer ability you have. But I never took it out on you. Life deals us all rough hands in some way or another. I'm generally useless at spells, you've got a psychopath after you. Sucks for both of us," Neville said bluntly. He glared at Harry who glared back.

"Cheer up, Harry. It could be worse," Neville said, suddenly cheerful, and punched Harry's shoulder. He walked back to the table and picked up the tray. "Grab a glass, come help us out, alright?" Neville chirped and kicked open the door. Harry just sort of looked at him as Neville backed through the door. "Look, your forgiven, just don't do it again, right? Get a cup and come on." Harry matched his small smile and, picking up a green mug, followed him out.

Harry followed Neville out around the house into a large shed. Boxes and boxes of stuff littered the yard, Hermione and Ron sitting next to them fiddling with some albums. Ginny tossed a chicken that had gotten into the shed. "Harry!" Hermione called as she noticed Neville's companion. She stood up and ran over, giving him a hug. "Hey Hermione," he replied and then was caught up in the arms of Ginny. "What are you guys doing?" he asked, picking through a box of stuffed animals. The three of them looked at Ron. He shrugged. "Alright Harry, sit down. Take a look at this." Ron pulled the diary from his back pocket. He flipped open to the page with Tom Riddle's picture on it and handed it to Harry. Who promptly dropped it. Harry whipped out his wand and was in the middle of saying an obliteration spell, before Ron grabbed his wand out of his hand and kicked the diary over. "Relax Harry. It's not evil. But at least we got a second confirmation on his identity. In any case, this is Percy's diary. We found it when we were cleaning out his room for Neville. This one, he drew the day after the Tri Wizard Tournament. This one was a few days later," Ron added, picking up the book and flipping two pages over. And then three more over. "There are a few pictures that are just random- girls and guys doing mundane things. But then there is this." Ron showed him the last page of Percy's and Harry noted the date.

"Welcome to the confusion. Were looking through his stuff," Ginny smiled and handed him a box. "I mean, it's obvious that Percy was scared of You Know Who. Who isn't? But the symbols? The pictures? What's going on?" she added, sitting down and picking through a box of 3rd year transfiguration assignments. Harry looked at the mess quizzically. "Who cares?" he asked. Ron glared at him. "He didn't leave because he thought we were rubbish. He left because of something else. You going to help or not?" Hermione slid behind Ron with a photo album. "It can't be his childhood. Look at all these pictures. Happy 3 year old Percy. Happy Percy putting a mudpie in Charlie's hair. Whatever it is, it must have been recent," she commented, showing Ron the pictures.

"RONALD! GINEVRA! WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING!!" Five heads spun around to meet an infuriated Molly Weasley. Ginny scooted to her mom and smiled sweetly. "Neville and Harry needed to work out some aggression so we figured we'd clean out the shed," she replied, grabbing her mother's hand. "Likely story," she sniffed. She looked over at Ron. "We've got a history project that we need to visit the Ministry Archives for," Hermione said suddenly. "And we were hoping that maybe if we... you know... cleaned out the shed," she added tentatively. Ron picked it up. "Which you've been asking Dad to do for ages; we were hoping that you'd let us go out to dinner in Diagon Alley afterwards," Ron finished with a brilliant smile and puppy dog eyes. "We haven't out of the house in ages, Mum," Ginny added, her eyes nearly glistening. Molly looked over at her kids with a suspicious eyes. "Maybe for lunch," she said warily before giving an entirely different look to Hermione. "When do you need to go to the archives, dear? I know you like to get your work done early- a habit I wish you'd pass on to my children," she finished, a snooty smile on her face. She started walking back into the house. "Come along, Ginny. You can't help get lunch together," she exclaimed, dragging a smiling Ginny into the house.

"Have I told you lately that you're absolutely brilliant?" Ron nudged Hermione. She turned red. "Yes, but I don't tire of hearing it," she shot back, a wide smile on her face. A devious look appeared on her face. "Of course, you do know that you'll actually have to do some archival research while you're there." Ron's face faltered. "I'm sure Professor Binns would love it if you included some historical records in your essay," she teased. "If I passed the bloody class, you mean," Ron grumbled back, before picking up a box. "Let's put all this stuff back- we can go through it after we get back tomorrow," Ron decided, handing Neville a box before taking the one out of Harry's hands.

"How are you doing, Harry?" Hermione whispered. Harry turned to her. "I don't want to talk about it," he replied abruptly. "Well, aren't you going to ask how I am." Hermione's voice had turned threatening. Harry remembered Lupin pulling out a letter from Hermione. Ron hadn't heard from her either. "How are you, Hermione?" he asked, a bit put off. Hermione cocked her head and her hips. She stared hard at Harry, before walking right past him towards the house. Harry blinked. "Things have changed Harry. You didn't expect all of us to stay the same, did you?" Suddenly, Ron was behind him, watching her go. Harry felt his stomach dropped a bit. His actions strike again. His look turned dour. "No, I suppose not." Ron clapped his shoulder and presently, a crash was heard from the shed. "I'm alright!" Neville's voice floated to them. Ron laughed. "Remember what I said about a fist through the head, Harry. Tell mum we'll be there in a bit," Ron chuckled as he ran back over to the shed. Harry looked over at Ron's disappearing figure. Things had changed.

When Harry walked into the room, his hand was grabbed by a mysterious figure and pulled into the living room. "Right, Harry. You just stand there," she grinned maliciously. Ginny and Mrs. Weasley were sitting down on the couch and Harry noticed that the short table was pushed against the stairs. "So, person comes out you from the back, right?" Hermione turned around and position Harry's hands around her mouth. Harry looked confused, but not for long. Hermione made like she was going to elbow him in the ribs, so when Harry went to block, she ripped his hand from her mouth and twisted it. Harry's body followed, sending him shooting forward and around, landing with a thunk on his back. "See, it's all about using a person's body weight against him. You alright, Harry?" she offered a hand, that evil grin still printed on her face. He looked over and saw Ron and Neville grinning from the entrance into the kitchen. "Hellfire..." he groaned, but took the hand.

Author's Notes: I love you all, I love you all. Hopefully this has further wet your Percy appetite. Forgive the Harry interpretation- I know it's not the best ever. Hopefully, writing him as a character will become better :) Thanks again to Filler Bunny Rox, sibbo, db (you guys rock!) and cooldot for making me feel special!


	7. Confrontation

Ron sipped a cup of coffee. Copper hair dripped down his face, still damp from the gallons of sweat that seemed to pour from him like he was a spigot. He brushed his hair from his hazel eyes and took another sip. "You haven't slept the entire night all summer."

Ron looked up from his mug to see Ginny hugging the doorframe, a thin white shift hanging off her shoulders. She looked positively angelic, the soft glow from the candle glinting off of that fire hair. "Neither have you, apparently," he shot back, his voice leaden. "I always wake up once or twice- don't change the subject. Don't think I haven't caught you doing that," Ginny said forcefully, pulling out a chair and dropping into it. She fixed him with a sharp glare, and Ron found he couldn't get away from it.

"It's just dreams, is all," Ron mumbled, taking another sip of his coffee from the electric orange mug. He met Ginny's eyes again; they still looked fierce. With a sigh, he tried again. "Look, it's just residual from the attack. Madam Pomfrey told me to expect it, as there is only so much that green junk could do. I'm fine, really." He took another sip and looked up at Ginny. She pulled Percy's journal and a quill from seemingly mid-air and put them in front of Ron. "Oh... shite," Ron groaned, leaning back in his chair. "I noticed one of my Invisi-Quills missing- imagine me finding it in your drawer," she said simply, worry haunting her eyes.

"Look, it's just dreams, right. Compilations of all the crap Percy drew and my mind twisting it. It's nothing, don't worry about it," Ron whispered harshly, sliding the chair out from under him with the wooden legs scraping the floor. He put his cup in the sink and looked back at Ginny. "Really. We've got bigger things to worry about, Gin. I appreciate your concern." Ron walked past her into the living room.

"You didn't seem to be surprised at what Hermione said earlier, about what happened and where she's been. You get up and walk out the door the moment Neville hits Harry in the middle of our conversation, like you knew. How did you know, Ron?" Ginny nearly shouted from the doorway. "All of a sudden you're accommodating... and intuitive! You've got the emotional range of a teaspoon, remember?" she added. Ron grasped the bannister of the staircase and gave a last look at Ginny. 

"I don't know," he said finally, slowly. "I don't know why this is happening, I don't know how I know. I don't know what to tell you, Gin." He gave her a goofy half smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Ginny looked up at her big brother with a troubled eyes. She looked like she was 5 again, asking her big brother why the neighborhood kneazle wasn't coming back. He didn't know how to tell her he was dead. Without another word, he walked back up the stairs to his room.

* * *

"Come on, Neville, dear," Mrs. Weasley pulled the pot of oatmeal from the table and dropped it in the sink. Scrubbing brushes flew from the basin and started attaching the cauldron with a vengeance. Hermione and Ginny swept into the kitchen, their long cloaks floating across the wooden floor. "Harry, Ronald! Let's go!" Mrs. Weasley bellowed from the stairs. Clomping sounded through the house as they two dropped down onto the landing and came into the kitchen. "Alright, Mr. Green and Tonks will meet you at the other end and escort you to the Ministry. I'm sure you can take it from there," she blathered hurriedly, nervously. "Alright, Hermione, Neville. You two first," she added, pulling the top off the Floo Powder jar. They each took a pinch and threw it into the lit fireplace. It shot green and with a simple "Diagon Alley," the two of them were gone. Harry and Ginny followed suit. Ron kissed his mother on the cheek. "Relax, mum. We'll be fine," he said gently and tossed his pinch into the fire. She cupped his cheek and gave him a kiss back, a smile on her face. "Of course dear. Have a good time." She didn't sound completely convinced. Ron jumped into the fire.

Tonks looked genuinely ecstatic to be standing next to the suave Mr. Green. She looked practically business-like: chocolate brown hair cut into a stylish, yet conservative bob, khaki flared skirt and white blouse hid behind an open mocha robe. Her smile dazzled as she grabbed up Ginny and squeezed. "Wotcher, Harry," she said gleefully, frazzling his hair. He gave her an annoyed look as he tried to smooth it down and failed. Mr. Green greeted Hermione, who gave him a quiet smile. "Alright, to the Ministry," he said, giving a pointed look to Tonks. She straightened up and ushered Ron and Neville in front of her. "Oh yes, this way."

They dashed past the shops: Madam Maulkins, Flourish and Botts, The Owlery. Gringotts's gold sign winked in the blinding grayness of the sky. They found themselves shortly in front of the Ministry of Magic's Diagon Alley entrance. This doorway, instead of being a telephone booth, was lavish and bright. Cheery red brick extended in every direction with the union jack flying high alongside smaller flags of every nation in wizardom. They walked through the glass doors and towards security. Each were given visitor passes and had their wands weighed. Each were swept through the atrium; the statue of the wizard, witch, elf and centaur was gone, replaced by a large sign reading "UNDER CONSTRUCTION, PARDON THE INCONVENIENCE."

They arrived on the second floor without incident. The hallway seemed absolutely alive with memos: purple origami planes and orange paper birds flapped and flittered through the bustling crowds. "Hallo Harry!" a voice rose above the fuss. Harry turned his head to find Remus Lupin dodging his way to him. Harry's face, already frowning, drooped lower. "What are you lot doing here?" he said after coming face to face with the five of them plus two. "Research for History of Magic, Professor. I thought we might check through the records to see if we could find any points of interest," Hermione piped up. Five angelic faces smiled at him. "Please, Hermione. I must remind you I am no longer your professor. I'd prefer Remus, Mr. Lupin if you must." With a bob of the head, he disappeared back into the crowd. Mr. Green led the way passed the people bunched up in front of the Auror Headquarters office.

Expansive did not do the Ministry Archives justice. Enormous, maybe. Gargantuan, possibly. Hermione's eyes glazed over, a look of pure joy sweeping across her features. Polished maple floors, oak bookcases extending skywards, sleek tables and chairs. And in front of them, a meager information desk. The librarian was a thin man, with orange tufts of wiry hair sprouting from his head; long, lanky limbs in a tan robe, watery brown eyes that seemed to hold the depths of the universe within them. He was a quiet man, with few words and even fewer lunch breaks. Rumor was, he never left the archives.

Hermione strode to the desk with an air of belonging. This was her domain: parchment and ink, memories, anecdotes, histories of a thousand million wizards and witches. "Two hours, and we'll come and collect you. Don't leave the premises," Mr. Green said strictly, his eyes wandering particularly on Hermione. A chorus of whispered "we won't" replied. Mr. Green nodded his head and escorted Tonks from the archives, but not before her nose exploded into a monstrous purple hook before shrinking back to her normal one. Ginny giggled uncontrollably for a quick second, before Ron nudged her. "We're looking for the wizard catalogues," Hermione began talking to the Librarian . Ron pulled Ginny, Harry and Neville aside as Hermione asked a series of questions.

"Alright, if anyone asks, make something up. Bathroom, whatever. We should only be gone for 20 minutes at the most. You got the cloak?" Ron asked Harry. It was only to get to the elevators. There would be no way in hell that the offices of the Ministry would have no security against invisibility cloaks. Hermione smiled as she carried a thin, square, flat piece of metal with small holes punched in it towards them. "Do you believe they have something akin to a computer system here?" Hermione directed the comment towards Harry. Harry rolled his eyes, pulling Ron into the stacks. Ginny followed him in. Harry peeled off his outer robe and let it drop to the floor. Draping his shoulders was the iridescent fabric that could only be the invisibility cloak. He pulled that off as well and tossed it to Ron. Ron threw it over his shoulders- he had to stoop low to get it to fit. "You need to stop growing; you're like a bloody tree now," Harry cracked at Ron. "Oh, ha ha, shrimp. Come on Gin, we should be fine," Ron was holding the cloak like he was a flying squirrel, and he ran over and wrapped his arms around Ginny, wailing like a moose. He engulfed her in the cloak and the two of them vanished, though the effect was rather lessened considering Ron was still making moose sounds and Ginny was laughing loudly. "It'll work," Harry said after a moment. "I'm going to sprain my back, doing this though," Ron grumbled. "Well, let's get a move-on then. See you in a bit, Harry," he heard Ginny say and then soft footsteps drifting away.

* * *

Maneuvering through the masses gathered in front of the Auror HQ was horrendous. Apparently, every mother in the British Empire was attempting to have their houses personally charmed by an Auror. Ron and Ginny skirted the main part of the crowd with some difficulty, causing a lot of mothers to turn their heads and find no one bumping into them. Ron poked out a finger from the cloak and hit the down button. The elevator, some moments later, ground to a halt on the second floor. More mothers poured out of the box, each dressed in various degrees of apron. Ron and Ginny squeezed in, ripping the invisibility cloak off at the same time. When they came faced to face with an elderly man in a deep red robe and matching tie, he hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary.

The doors opened onto the first floor, Ministry administration. Glass walls showed every secretary's desk and expensive chairs and couches littered the area. Another security checkpoint.

"Do you have an appointment?"

Ron and Ginny looked up at the elegantly dressed man behind the security desk. He was large in the way that oil rigs were compared to hand drills. Solid muscle. He unfolded himself from his puny chair and stood in front of the glass doors into the main waiting area. "We were hoping to see our brother. Percy Weasley. Junior Undersecretary to the Minister," Ginny chirped hopefully. The man looked down at her with a curious look on his face. "Your brother?" he said slowly. Ginny pulled the badge off of her robe and handed it to him. Ron followed. Both smiled brightly. He examined both of the name tags and handed them back. "I didn't know Percy had any siblings," he remarked after examination. "He's got 6 of them," Ginny replied, sliding through the glass doors. Ron followed her in.

They walked through the corridors, the walls still glass, but fogged to a pleasant cream color. Name plates shimmered in gold across each door. "We should have checked the directory," Ginny grumbled. "Did you see a directory? I didn't. And we didn't need any more attention drawn to us. We aren't supposed to be here, remember?" Ron shot back. He looked to his right and stopped short. "Oh. Here it is." Percy Weasley, Junior Undersecretary to the Minister in glimmering gold. The two of them stared at the door, side by side, both of them unwilling to touch the doorknob. Ron raised his hand hesitantly and paused. He knocked.

* * *

Hermione dragged Harry and Neville to a line of metal boxes alongside the far wall. The boxes were set inside a long cherry desk with holes the size of a galleon cut into the top, spaced equally with the metal boxes. Hermione slipped the metal card into the far left box. White light suddenly shot up from the desk in the shape of an inverted cone, about 3 foot long. A small elf in a blue shift appeared in the light, floating gently. Neville and Harry both watched, amazed as the elf twittered, "Who would you like to find today?" "Percy Ignatius Weasley," Hermione replied. A smile blossomed on the elf's face. He did a quick jig to a ditty and threw up his hands. A reference number glittered green in the white light above the elf's hands. "One entry found. Percy Ignatius Weasley, born August 22, 1976. Reference number WEA 7243743. Would you like to find again?" the elf inquired. Neville picked a quill from the selection nearby and a scrap of parchment from the tray, scribbling down the reference number. Hermione passed her hand through the field and the metal card shot out. The light vanished and Hermione pocketed the card.

Harry found the stack marked WEA 7,000,000-7,500,000 and began to skim his finger along the bound parchments. Neville and Hermione appeared shortly, following his movements. "What's the number again, Neville?" Harry asked. "7243743," Neville replied. Harry tapped a red binding and pulled it out of the stack. The books closed around the empty space with an audible snap. Harry sat down on the carpet and Hermione and Neville flanked him on either side. The red leather was embossed with Percy's name and date of birth in gold. Harry flicked up the edge of the cover and opened it. Neville frowned. Harry looked frustrated. Hermione looked shocked.

It was empty, except for one fluttering piece of parchment. In bold red ink, it proudly stated in huge letters: CLASSIFIED. Clearance wasn't listed.

* * *

Percy Weasley groaned. Throwing down his quill, he pushed himself back from his desk, stomped over to the door and threw it open. "Janice, I already sent the copy..." he trailed off. Ron and Ginny were standing at the door, looking confused. Percy just stared. He blinked. "Ron... Ginny," was all he could manage to say. For that moment, he had lost all of his composure. But then, as realization dawned on him, it snapped back. "Would you like to come in?" he asked cordially, backing away from the door, the haughty tone back in place. Ron and Ginny filed in. Percy closed the door gently behind them and made his way back to his desk. "Sit," he gestured, the one burgundy armchair becoming two. Ginny did, but Ron didn't.

"What the hell is going on, Percy?" Ron asked, his forcefulness coming out more whiny then he'd like. Percy's eyebrows furrowed behind the massive horn-rimmed glasses. "Well, I was in the process of summarizing a report from Greece on their efforts to increase tourism revenue," he replied dryly, leaning back in his chair, hands pillowing his head. Ron's eyes narrowed. Percy smirked inwardly: Ron was too easy. He'd get him stomping out of the room in a heartbeat. "I must say I am surprised at your appearance in my office. I don't suppose it's too much to hope that you've abandoned your ridiculous pursuit of death by stupidity, is it?" Percy asked coldly. "After your incident in the Department of Mysteries, I would hope that you would have come by some common sense as to your association with Harry Potter," he added. Ooh, he thought to himself, that was nice. A pat on the back. Ron's face turned almost purple, but before he could open his mouth, the room echoed with the sound of a book hitting a table. Ginny's hand was still posed over the desk.

Percy picked up the leather bound notebook. He ran his hand over the beaten leather, turning the journal in his hand. He looked up at Ginny, who had fixed him with an inquisitive glare, and Ron, who was tightlipped and now only magenta. He opened the first page and saw the title of the journal. Blood rushed from his head.

"I particularly like the drawing on May 17th," Ginny voiced nonchalantly. Percy flipped open the book and looked at the May 17th page. He shut the book almost immediately and slammed it on the table. Ginny and Ron both jumped at the loud thump echoing in the glass room. Percy stood up, his face pale and devoid of any emotion other than anger. "Get out," he said, his voice deadly serious. Ron put his hand on the desk. "Percy, what is going on?" Ron said again, his voice calm. "Get out," Percy shouted, color beginning to come back into his face. "Percy, we just want to understand; we just want to help you," Ginny stood in her seat, her hands on the desk, pleading. Percy's eyes seem to spark behind his glasses.

The door shot open, revealing Cornelius Fudge. All the color in Percy's face drained again into his feet. Ron and Ginny turned around, surprise written on their faces. Nobody noticed Percy knock the diary into his wastepaper bin. "Yes, Minister?" Percy replied, his voice surprisingly normal. "I heard a raised voice, Mr. Weasley. Just keeping an eye on you." Fudge gave a pointed look at Percy, who looked down at his desk. He looked over at the other Weasleys, but said nothing before closing the door to the office.

Percy dropped into his seat and sighed heavily. A deep silence purveyed through the room, leaving it with an almost bone-chilling frost. "Percy..." Ginny started again, but her heart wasn't in it. He just shook his head. "Just go," Percy said, defeated. He leaned his head back on the seat and closed his eyes. He pulled off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Why is Fudge checking up on you?" Ron shot out with a sudden burst of perceptiveness. Percy jolted from his attempt at calming down and looked at Ron surprisedly. He stared at Ron with confusion and suspicion in his eyes. Ron began to grow uncomfortable; Percy's look had turned into something else. Something piercing, as if he was solving something. And suddenly, Ron felt himself slipping away. A tall man with gold in his eyes flashed before him.

"Percy?" Ginny's voice broke through the room, ringing off of the glass. Percy looked down and realized his glasses were still in his hand- he hadn't been wearing them. He slipped them back on his face, taking a nervous breath. He stood up and went past Ron to the door. "Have a good afternoon," he said simply, quietly. Ron's eyes finally focused, dropping down to the ground before turning to see Percy at the door. "Come on, Gin," Ron said gruffly, hurriedly. Ginny looked up at him with surprise and confusion, but walked out of the door. Ron stopped at the doorframe and looked at Percy. He refused to look Ron in the eye. "You can't tell us, can you?" he asked, a whisper. Percy's eyes never left the floor as he shut the glass behind Ron. Percy turned around and leaned back against the door. He let himself slide down the opaque glass until he sat on the ground. He stayed there, head in his hands, for the better part of the afternoon.

Author's Note: Whew. A tough chapter to write. I've been a bit sidetracked- I got another grad check in the mail, so I went to the bookstore and picked up two Pratchett books: Monstrous Regiment and Masquerade. Haven't read the latter yet, but the former was fabulous. Couldn't put it down. But anyways... thanks to my lovely DB, silver mirror and cooldot. I know I haven't really answered anything yet, but things should be falling apart soon. All of you readers keep me going! ::glomp::


	8. An Interesting Development

When Ron and Ginny walked back through the library door, they had been gone half an hour. Hermione, Harry and Neville were sitting at one of the long tables, stacks of red binders piled around them. Ginny looked a bit angry, but Ron looked absolutely haunted. His eyes were dark and he shuffled rather than walked. Ginny sat down in a chair, Ron slumped. "What's wrong with him?" Harry asked Ginny. "He won't tell me. Him and Percy had a weird moment." "I'm right here, you know," Ron muttered. He ran a hand through his hair and looked up at Hermione. "What did you guys find?" Hermione searched the stack and pulled a red binder from near the bottom. She slid it over to Ron, who opened it. He sighed and shut it. "Bloody hell..." Ron groaned and his head dropped to the table. Ginny pulled the binder from under his head and looked at it.

"From what we can tell, not even Percy could open his file. Harry tried to read his and he couldn't get by his classified notice," Hermione added. Harry's ambivalence turned into anger. "Yeah, I get the feeling that might have been Dumbledore's doing though," he answered darkly. Hermione glared at him, but turned back to Ron. "Unless we get authority from the minister himself, or Dumbledore, I suspect, we are dead in the water on this avenue." The five of them looked dower. "Did you get anything out of Percy," Neville asked. Ginny looked at Neville uneasily. "He freaked out when we gave him the book. Told us to get out. I've never seen him that angry before," Ginny shook her head. "That's it?" Neville replied disbelievingly.

"He can't tell us," Ron said quietly. "He can't explain the diary, he can't explain any of it. Fudge knows though. You saw the way he looked at Percy when he told Percy he was keeping an eye on him. Percy paled when he walked in." Ron clarified, giving a half-smile to Ginny. He sighed and rubbed his forehead in thought. "What happened with you and Percy, Ron?" Ginny asked softly. He looked over at her. Looked back down at the table.

"What did it look like, Ginny?" Hermione asked, a light tone in her voice. "Gin, leave it," Ron threatened. "I'll just get it out of her tonight when you aren't there," Hermione threatened back. Ron mulled it over.

"I asked Percy about Fudge's interest in him. He looked genuinely amazed that I had connected the dots and he sat up." Ron stopped and took a deep breath. "He just looked at me. I couldn't break his stare and... then it changed. He seemed to be looking into me, trying to... I... like he was trying to find the meaning in a painting or something. And he seemed to be just as locked into me as I was and then... then he just stopped. Walked to the door and asked us calmly to leave." Ron stopped and Harry eyes flashed. He knew that stop- it's trademark of someone hiding a piece of information. He did it all the time. "That was it, then?" Harry asked slowly. Ron looked at him dead in the eye and said, "yes." But Harry could see the muscle in his arm tighten, as if he was gripping something under the table.

"Did it feel like Occlumency?" Hermione asked, her quill scribbling down the end of Ron's tale. "I don't know. Never experienced it. It wasn't so much he was breaking into my head and reading my thoughts. It was... he was... sizing me up? Summing me up? I don't know. I DON'T," he said harshly, particularly to Ginny. Hermione put down her quill. "Anything else you noticed?" she asked finally. "He wasn't wearing his glasses. When it happened. He didn't move until I said his name. Then he put them back on, nervous-like," Ginny answered and Ron slightly stiffened. Harry's eyes narrowed- was that what he was purposefully leaving out? "I don't know about you, but I'm starving. Let's get some lunch," Neville said cheerfully, sliding his chair smoothly out. There was a round of agreements as Hermione went to return the archive card to the Librarian.

* * *

They found themselves sitting inside of Florean Fortescue's shop sipping milkshakes a few minutes later. Ron and Ginny slid in one side of the booth, Harry and Hermione on the other with Neville riding the chair at the head of the table. Each sipped a milkshake (Chocolate, Chocolate, Strawberry, Pineapple and Strawberry, respectively). Mr. Green and Tonks sat in the next booth closest to the door, sipping vanilla cappuccinos. Mr. Green had watched Mr. Fortescue make each milkshake and made him take a sip from each before deeming them safe for the kid's consumption. Tonks apologized to him for the inconvenience- Green did not. 

Hermione and Neville were talking about some sentient form of Venus Flytrap that fed exclusively on mice. Harry, Ginny and Ron were pushing marked pieces of napkin around a quidditch pitch marked by the salt and pepper shakers. Tonks fluttered her eyelashes at a smirking Mr. Green.

It was then that the world around Harry blacked out.

Gray pavement was strangely visible against the gray fog. Like an underground snake, the pavement ripped up along Diagon Alley, tossing people aside like lemmings off of a cliff. The line of destruction ripped by Florean Fortescue's shop, every outdoor table spinning upwards and through the glass windows. Both Tonks and Mr. Green whipped out their wands and in concert shouted, "Protego!" The wicker chairs and tables crashed against the invisible barrier and dropped down onto the booths and front counter. Dust swirled in the aftermath as Tonks ran through the barrier and checked the destruction out doors. Neville lie on the ground, unconscious, his chair knocked over. Mr. Green kicked the chair behind him and yanked the table out. Ron helped Mr. Green lower Harry onto the floor. "Hermione, ward this place down. Ginny, please check on Neville," he said simply and Hermione jumped to her feet. Her wand moved with incredible speed as the shield charm turned pink, then violet, then blue as she shouted out charm after charm. Blood poured out of Harry's scar and his body was rigid.

* * *

The pain was unbelievable- his entire body seized with it, his mind was clouded with it. And yet, he fought to clear his mind- to push it all out. This was what he had been training for all summer. He squinted behind his already crushed eyelids and pushed every shiver of pain out of his mind. 

_His hair was buzzed to the point of nonexistence. A sparse bed, bolted down to the hardwood floor with restraints dangling off the side, and a small bed table, also bolted down, was all that was in the room. The walls were a blinding white and heavily padded. The door was windowless. The young man, couldn't be older than 25, was dressed in blue scrubs and banging on the door as hard as he could with both fists. He could feel himself slither towards him. The man screamed, "GET ME OUT OF HERE! GET ME OUT OF HERE!" with fear ripping through his baritone. _

_Percy collapsed to his knees, pale and gaunt. Percy looked levelly into his eyes, terror written all over them. He felt himself slither forward; Percy skittered backwards against the wall, ripping his wand from the desk. He pushed himself against the wall, now at a standing position. He pointed his wand down and there was a blast of white light._

"_Snape has refused to give her up, Lord. We still have yet to locate Harris, but we have a promising lead from Kamayo on Okinabe." The sniveling face of Peter Pettigrew came into a wobbly focus. The world swum before his eyes. "There is no place that he can run that I will not find him. Severus is as good as dead. Find her. When I find him..."_

Harry felt his mind slam back into his body and his eyes shot open in reflex. Instead of being on the floor of Florean Fortescue's, he was lying in bed. And the spot was only too familiar.

Grimmauld Place. Number 12. Fuck.

* * *

The door swung open. Snape stormed through the threshold towards Harry. One of his eyes was swollen shut, but there was a fire in his visible, dark eye. Harry hadn't seen that sort of hatred even when Snape talked about his father. He saw Remus step through the doorway, but then his attention was taken up by Snape, who picked him up by the throat and slammed him against the wall above his bed. "What. Did. He. Say," Snape growled, his voice low and guttural. A hand appeared on Snape's shoulder and his body was wrenched from Harry. 

Harry dropped back down onto the bed, bouncing a bit, shock written all over his face. Severus crashed to the floor, Remus standing over his body. "Severus!" Remus bellowed. Snape stood up and neatly crashed his fist into Remus's jaw, sinking the man to the ground. He walked over to Harry and stood over the bed. He tried again. "WHAT DID HE SAY!" he screamed, his face wild and frantic. Harry was shocked- his words stuck in his throat. Snape pulled out his wand and pointed it at Harry. "So help me God Potter, if you do not tell me what Lord Voldemort said about me I will hit you with every curse I can think of," his voice deadly blunt.

"Severus, put down your wand."

Albus Dumbledore breezed into the room. He sat down on the bed and put his hand on Snape's wand, lowering it. "Harry, Mr. Green said that when you were en route here you mentioned Snape's name. We need to know what you saw," Dumbledore said quietly. Snape looked like a rubber band about to snap, the hand gripping his wand was trembling. Harry took his eyes off of Snape and looked down at Remus, who was in some form of consciousness, but not one that included speaking coherently. "Harry," Dumbledore spoke more forcefully and Harry's attention switched back to his headmaster.

"He said that there was no place that... Professor Snape could run that he would not find him, that he was as good as dead. Then he said to find her... but that was all..." Harry trailed off. Snape had ripped his robe open, and was digging through the pockets of his pressed black pants. To Harry's surprise, he pulled out a very sleek, gleaming silver cellular phone. He flipped up the top and pressed a button. He put the phone to his ear and the tension in the room seemed to double. Dumbledore had ceased looking at Harry and was now focused on Snape's pacing figure; for the first time, Harry could see fear in those blue eyes. Snape's eyes widened before he started bellowing forcefully into the phone. "Esme, run. I've been found out. The list still stands on both sides. Don't go back to the house." Snape had meandered his way into the corner of the room. He turned away from Harry and muttered something softly into the phone, closing the phone with an audible click. He turned back, his eyes closed. He opened them and checked his watch. He opened the phone again and hit a different number. He paused a moment, and in a unsteady voice, he spoke. "Esmerelda Snape, please." A pause. "What time did she leave?" Another pause. Snape hung up the phone and there was nothing in his demeanor to suggest that he wasn't absolutely broken.

"I'll get on the fire to the embassies in California, Severus. We will find her," Albus stood up. He gave Harry a small grin. Severus followed him out, and Harry couldn't help but notice how human Snape looked. Dejected and beaten, the proud, haughty professor was replaced by a distraught man with every line on his face visible.

"Harry. What else did you see?"

Harry turned to see Remus standing against the wall, a large purple bruise blossoming on his left cheek. "Who is Esmerelda Snape?" Harry asked. "My question first, Harry," he simply said. Harry couldn't find it in him to glare. "A man in a room, tall, dark hair practically shaved off, mid 20's. In a padded room. Begging to be let out," Harry replied slowly. He screwed his eyes in though as he tried to pull up the memory. "Percy! One of Voldemort's snakes were in Percy's office," Remus put his hand up. "We've already taken care of Percy, Harry. Was that all?" Harry shook his head. "Something about they couldn't find Harris, but they had a lead on Okinabe." Remus's head cocked gently. "Harris and Okinabe?" he repeated, slightly puzzled. Harry shrugged. Remus nodded his head and began to walk to the door.

"Who is Esmerelda Snape?" Harry repeated. Remus turned to him and gave him a very strained smile. "His daughter," he said simply and left the room.

* * *

"Snape procreated? Are you joking! Who would sleep with him?" Ron shouted disbelievingly. Hermione smacked him in the arm. "Shut up, Ron. You said... Voldemort wants Snape dead?" Hermione asked, changing gears. Harry nodded. "He said Snape wouldn't give up his daughter. I guess that sort of tipped him off he wasn't exactly dedicated to the cause," Harry said dryly. Suddenly, Percy came into his head. "What happened with Percy?" Harry asked. Ron looked at Hermione. "Dumbledore won't say. Mom is absolutely frantic- Ginny's down there with her now. I haven't seen her like this since she found out Ginny was taken into the Chamber of Secrets," Ron shook his head. "Voldemort set one of his snakes on him," Harry muttered. "One of them?" Hermione echoed. 

Harry thought about the man in the padded room. Dark hair, tall, lean. Padded room... restraints... "I've seen him before! The man in the room! Shit, Ron! Did you get Percy's diary back?" Harry exclaimed, shooting up from the bed he lay in. Ron blinked surprisedly before giving him a no. "There was a picture of a man tied to a bed- you remember it? It was him! And then Pettigrew said they were looking for Harris and Okinabe; going after Percy; Snape refusing to give up his daughter." Harry's smiled widened as everything seemed to fall into place. "What do you want to bet the other normal pictures in the diary were of them?" Ron looked pensive. "He must have known this would happen. That's why he ran," Ron mumbled in thought. "But why now? Why not last year? Why not the year before? Why try to take the five of them now?" Hermione voiced.

"Ron, is Percy a seer?" Hermione suddenly asked. Ron shook his head. "No. Divination was the only NEWT he almost didn't pass. Plus, that would be something he would have gloated about," Ron answered. "What if he was and they Obliviated him?" Harry offered. "You can't obliviate someone out of having visions..." she trailed off, her mind visibly whirring behind those brown eyes. She traced out a few pictures with her finger on Harry's bed, deep in thought. "Prophecies are automatically siphoned from the Seer into those glass balls, right? Brain waves activating the recording device based on resonating frequencies. I suppose you could siphon out a prophecy without the Seer knowing it. All you'd need to do is..." Hermione trailed off and stopped. She looked up at Ron and Harry. "No. That would require shutting down the part of the brain that is responsible for Seeing. There isn't one localized section of the brain responsible for prophecy- you'd have to shut down bits and pieces of it everywhere. It would kill him," Hermione said simply.

"Certainly would save someone else the trouble."

Percy Weasley stood in the doorway. He leaned against the doorframe, a blank look on his face.

* * *

Author's Notes: db, you don't know how happy I was to read your last review. It's all about the build up- hopefully I won't let you down! Shots out to sibbo and vez for reviewing as well. The next chapter make take a bit: I'm not sure how I want to write one of the Big Explanations yet. But no worries... it is coming...


	9. A Further Development

Percy walked into the room and sat down in a chair next to the window on Harry, Ron and Hermione's left side. "When did you get here?" Ron asked solemnly. "About 5 minutes ago. Had to see Mum first; I knew she was going to be panicked, so I thought I might quell that fire first," Percy chatted, looking at the three of them with a wary eye. "I told Mum that I should come upstairs and thank the person responsible for my last-second rescue. So, my thanks and gratitude, Harry," Percy dipped his head into a bow.

"But that's not really why you came up here, is it?" Hermione asked. A wry smile appeared on Percy's mouth. "Not entirely. You were always the cleverest witch of your age, but I'm sure you're tired of hearing it. Undoubtedly perceptive... but not, perhaps, as much as Ron." Percy's eyes switched focus on to Ron, who's eyes immediately dropped to the bedspread.

"So now I have a few questions for you three," Percy's eyes shifted focus from Ron to Harry. "You've hardly been forthcoming," Hermione started, but was silenced by a hand on her shoulder. Ron stood up, a look of intrigue on his face. "I'm not here to point fingers. I just want to know the truth. Answer for an answer?" Ron negotiated, his voice piqued with interest. Percy looked at the window and then down at this lap. "I'll answer what I can, which is admittedly not much," he conceded. Ron looked over at Harry. "I'll answer what I can," Harry said, his eyes narrowed behind his glasses. Percy nodded. "Alright, shoot," Percy said. Ron looked to Hermione, who dug some parchment from her pocket.

"What prescription are your glasses?" Both Ron and Hermione looked back at Hermione like she was crazy. Percy thought a moment, his lip between his teeth. "They are for...hmm... a very advanced stage of astigmatism, in conjunction with an inability to change my focus quickly," he answered very carefully. Hermione scribbled that down with a quill she had pulled from her hair. "My turn. Harry, the rest of your vision please?" Percy looked expectantly at Harry, who met his look fiercely. "A bloke in a padded room banging on the door. Voldemort finding out Snape was a traitor and hearing plans for finding some people," Harry replied, a half smirk blooming on his face. Percy opened his mouth to ask a second question but stopped.

"What type of code are the symbols in the last quarter of your diary?" Hermione questioned. Percy bit his lip. "... I can't answer that," he said after about a minute. "Why?" Ron asked suddenly. Percy shot him a look. "Try again," he said to Hermione, avoiding Ron. Hermione tucked her legs under her, getting comfortable on the bedspread. "Why is Fudge keeping an eye on you?" Ron shot suddenly. Percy rolled his eyes. "Because he's concerned with my ability to perform in his administration," Percy said drolly and smirked. "Does anyone outside the three of you and Ginny know about the diary?" "No," Harry flat out lied. Percy looked him in the eye and, after a beat, sighed. "You're good liar Harry, but not that good. Who else knows?" "Neville. That's all," Hermione answered. Percy looked Hermione in the eye and nodded.

"What time period do your sketches of the children take place in?" Hermione brought up. Percy closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. His eyebrows furrowed and he exhaled vehemently. He ran a hand through his hair. "I hope... I hope it is in the past," he replied quietly. Percy ripped his glasses off of his face and massaged the bridge of his nose, keeping his head tilted towards the ceiling. He slipped them back on after a beat. Harry couldn't help but see Ron flinch when he took them off. Percy stood up and walked over to the bed. "Do you know why Death Eaters attacked Diagon Alley?" He hung over the footboard. Harry looked down at the bed. Looking back up at Percy, he shook his head. "I was outdoors, probably. Saw their opportunity," Harry answered bitterly. Both Hermione and Ron's face didn't agree. "No, that can't be the reason. No one came into the ice cream shop. I'd more say... a distraction?" Hermione looked over at Percy. A frown tugged at his face. "I was thinking along the same lines, unfortunately."

"Who is the bloke in my vision?" Harry spoke. Percy gave him a half smile, letting himself lean back away from the bedframe. "You also connect the dots well, Harry. I am being completely honest when I tell you that I have no idea what name he was born with," Percy voiced before letting go of the bed. He strolled over to the door. "Dad knows why, doesn't he?" Ron said and Percy stopped at the door. "Ron," he spoke deliberately and with a pointed look. "That's why he just let you go, when you left. Because he knew why," Ron interrupted. Percy shook his head. "Ron, I promise you that Dad has no idea, and if I were you, I wouldn't bring this up to him, or anyone else." Percy stepped through the door, and as he shut it behind him, Ron grabbed the interior handle. Percy turned around, still holding the exterior handle. He looked down at the floor and pulled Ron into the hallway.

"Ron, I read the diary. And those last couple of pages aren't in my handwriting," Percy said slowly and under his breath. Ron froze under Percy's hands gripping his shoulder. "Ginny showed me, yell at her. When did your visions start?" Ron paled and his lips sealed up tight. "They aren't visions," Ron nearly stuttered. Percy took a step back and looked up to the ceiling. "Not visions?" Percy repeated, looking back at Ron. Ron shook his head. "Dreams, generally," Ron shrugged. Percy was stymied. "When did they start?" Percy asked again. Ron looked down. "That is something I can't talk about," Ron replied, a small grin spreading into a wide, sarcastic one. Percy smiled back. "Must have been the incident at the Ministry of Magic, then. I suppose I could go and pull up the report..." Percy trailed off, his eyes pulled to the left. His jaw dropped.

* * *

With her mother momentarily consoled, Ginny took the opportunity to see if she could find out if Neville was alright. He had been carted off to St. Mungo's with a concussion shortly after the blast. The house was bustling with Order members, all seemingly searching for someone- she hadn't gathered who. She slipped into the dining room and saw Tonks eating a plate of eggs. Ginny smiled and walked past her to the kitchen door. Loud argumentation echoed behind the swinging door and, not recognizing the voice, stopped. Another voice shouted something loudly and there was a thunk. "I wouldn't go in there if I were you. Severus Snape is on a rampage and I wouldn't want to get under foot," Tonks offered, her eyes still focused on her plate. Ginny stepped back from the door and sat down next to Tonks. "Do you know how Neville is?" Ginny asked, changing subject. Tonks shook her head. "When they brought him in, the healer said that it was only a mild concussion- blast knocked him out of his chair and he smacked the back of his head. Probably just going to keep him overnight for observation; general procedure for head wounds," Tonks reassured Ginny, stuffing the last of her scrambled eggs into her mouth.

The door into the kitchen ripped open, Arthur Weasley striding out of it. "Tonks, you're with me, hello Ginny dear," he smiled quickly at her and breezed out into the parlor. Tonks raised her eyebrows and pushed herself out of her chair. "Duty calls," she grinned and followed Arthur out. Ginny stood up slowly and picked up the plate and fork from the table. She pushed the swinging door inwards and peeked into the kitchen.

Severus Snape was lying stiff as a board on top of the butcher block island. Remus sat on a stool next to him, reading the Daily Prophet. "Professor Lupin?" Ginny asked, her voice high. Remus started and put down his paper. "Oh, hello Ginny. Please, I'm no longer your professor. Call me Remus," he smiled broadly and folded the paper on his lap. Ginny tiptoed to the sink and put the dishes in there. "Sir, what happened to Professor Snape?" Remus patted the stiff on the chest- Snape's eyes were fixed with an angry glare. "Severus was acting irrational and needed to be calmed down for the time being. He should be able to break through the full body bind in a bit- I put a little more oomph in it than I think he thought I was capable of," Remus smirked. He turned to look down at Snape and the grin remained. "Severus, it would hardly do for you to run after Esme and end up dead. Arthur said he'd bring her straight here." The glare shifted down from skyward to meet Remus's caring eyes. The curse seemed to break off him with all the audibility of shattering glass. Severus sat up on the counter and looked over at Ginny. "Miss Weasley, out," he growled, he looked at Lupin like he was going to sock him again. Ginny's eyes grew wide as Severus glided off the counter and stood, his demeanor menacing. Ginny nearly squeaked as she backed quickly out of the room.

"Dad?"

The voice hadn't been that loud, but it was loud enough. The menacing look melted before Ginny's eyes to one that she had seen before, but never on Snape's face. He looked amazingly like her mother. Snape blew past Ginny, knocking her over onto the hardwood floor and nearly pushed the door off of it's hinges. Lupin bent down to help Ginny up, who looked a bit stunned, but said nothing as he led her into the dining room. All she could see was the back of Snape's dark cloak slightly bent over, thin, white-clothed arms wrapped around his middle. A voice, distinctly feminine and slightly nasal rose from the black mass. "Dad. DAD! Broken rib!" The dark cloak immediately expanded. Snape backed away and Ginny could finally see a young woman standing in the parlor.

The most surprising feature about her was her hair. Glossy, wavy and a dark, glinting garnet, it was piled into a messy bun at the back of her head. The other surprising thing was her lack of wizard robes- she stood in the hallway in a long sleeved white shirt, blood soaked slashes across the chest. Dark washed jeans hung well over her flip-flopped feet- dirty, torn at the knees. There were features about her that smacked of Snape- the pale complexion (thought black streaks of dirt jetted around her forehead and cheeks), dark hair (at least, from what Ginny could tell by her eyebrows), a slightly hooked nose. But Ginny could tell from 40 feet away that her eyes were a forest green, darker than Harry's and bordering less on the blue and more on the hazel; and her lips could never be described as thin. She was hardly curvaceous, but rather seemed solid- someone you couldn't push over if she didn't want you to. Which begged the question how she got the blood on her chest.

Severus hugged his daughter gently around her shoulders, the heavy sigh of a relieved parent escaping his lips. "Dad, I'm fine, really," her voice reassured gently. He led her over to the couch, sitting down next to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulder. Ginny boggled- the concerned air, the worried features. This couldn't possibly be Severus Snape- perhaps a twin? Her dad dropped down onto the coffee table and Albus Dumbledore strode in. He looked over her way and the french doors from the parlor into the dining room shut with a whim, the drapes drawn. "I don't believe I just witnessed that," Ginny muttered under her breath. "Amazing to think he'd actually reproduce," Lupin guffawed scathingly. Ginny shot him a surprised look, but she couldn't stop the smile from coming to her face. "Have you met her?" Remus nodded. "There are elements of Severus about her, no doubt. But when I met her, over the Christmas break that I worked at Hogwarts, she was sweet, shy though. Not very good in large groups, but actually quite nice when you get her one on one," he answered. "Prof... er... Remus. You haven't heard from Neville have you?" Remus nodded. "Kingsley is at the hospital with him. The doctor said he would be released tomorrow afternoon if nothing turned up overnight." Ginny gave him a smile and dipped into the kitchen. She swung around and went through the other door towards the stairs.

And straight into Esme.

"Oh! Geez, I'm so sorry," the woman stood up and offered a hand to Ginny. Her accent was muddled and she had never her the phrase "Geez" come out of anyone's mouth before. She took the hand and stood up. "Do you have any clue where the bathroom is?" she asked demurely. Ginny blinked. "Er... sure. Upstairs," Ginny replied choppily. She led Snape's daughter down the hallway to the staircase. "So. Your Snape's daughter?" Ginny remarked conversationally. Behind her, the girl blushed a bit. "Oh... yeah. I imagine you have him for potions at Hogwarts, right?" she asked. Ginny stopped on the landing and nodded. She smiled at Ginny and leaned on the bannister. "Yeah. I get that a lot when I come into town. They talk to you and you give them your last name and all of a sudden, they expect you to start berating them for their dismal potion marks." She drew herself up and put on a sneer quite like the one that was usually plastered on Snape's face during instruction. "I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach," she said, her voice a perfect imitation of Snape's drone if a little higher pitched. Ginny couldn't help but giggle. "I think he gives that speech to every group of first years he has. Keeps you incompetent losers on your toes," she added with a sarcastic smirk.

"Ginny," Ginny outstretched her hand. She took it and gave it a firm shake. "Esme, pleasure to meet you," she replied, smiling. "Are you Arthur's daughter?" she asked halfway up the second flight. "Yeah. How did you guess? It couldn't have been the bright red hair, could it?" Ginny said, rolling her eyes. Esme laughed. "Spoken like someone with a true grudge for their family's name. I sooo know what that is like," Esme remarked, extending that 'so' nice and long. "This is a monstrous house, does your family..."

Esme had reached the top of the third floor. Two guys stood in the corridor, muttering low to each other. The elder one turned to look at her, and her jaw couldn't help but fall open as recognition sparked in her mind.

* * *

Ron followed Percy's eye line and saw Ginny standing at the top of the staircase, with a woman standing behind her. The woman swooned back a bit, but was saved as she tightened her grip on the bannister. "Holy fuck..." she whispered reverentially. Percy shook his head 'no' almost indeterminably. She took a step towards Ron and Percy and then stopped.

"You are who I think you are. Aren't you?" she quietly spoke. Tentative. Nervous.

Percy gulped, and Ron could see that his grip on the doorknob was the only thing keeping him standing. The woman edged forward a bit more. She stopped and took in a deep breath.

"Did they come after you too, JJ?"

Ron's eyes seemed to finally register the bloody strokes across her chest. This must be Snape's daughter- she didn't appear too badly off- a little dirty, her jeans torn. Percy nodded again, a little more noticeably. He let out a huge breath Ron didn't know he was holding. Wait- JJ?

"I honestly don't believe we're in the same city, let alone the same corridor, Riti."

Esme smiled. So did Percy. And Harry connected the dirty face, dark red hair, and bright smile with a picture from Percy's diary.

* * *

Author's Notes: Whew. Still no answers! Next chapter should do it, I think. Blah. Thanks DB, catch the rest of you later!


	10. Revelations

Ron and Ginny were slumped against the door, an Extendable Ear trained on it. Harry and Hermione stood in the hallways- Hermione was in the process of delivering a slow motion chop to Harry's neck. "Bring your right arm up to block while at the same time, swing with your left," Hermione instructed. He raised his left leg to kick at her waist, but Hermione slammed down on his foot with her right, pinning it to the ground. "Harry, if you aren't going to listen to what I say, I won't bother," Hermione huffed, backing up. "Sorry, sorry," he apologized grumpily, squaring his body again. Hermione glared at him.

Ginny had originally been part of the defense lesson, but had decided to back off of it as Hermione was playing Military Commander. The stern voice had been prevalent throughout the entire lesson, made even worse by the fact that Harry seemed to have his own ideas about how moves should be made, and seemed keen to catch Hermione off her guard. It hadn't worked so far and Harry was now sporting a bruise on his left forearm that was blooming into a beautiful purple color, not to mention probably a bruised foot. It had been half an hour since Esme and Percy had disappeared into the room together and Ron had spent the entire time straining to hear their conversation. Esme had spent most of the time talking about her life- going to school in America, working for a pharmaceutical company that dealt with werewolves in some place called Silicon Valley. At least it explained the muddled accent. The discussion had shifted to Percy's glowing career at the ministry. At the mention of Fudge's name, Esme had erupted. Her voice had diminished at Percy's insistence, but to Ron's surprise, the language spoken had taken a definite left turn from English. And while he couldn't understand a word of it, he could recognize it from his dreams.

"Alright, I'm going to speed it up slightly, so keep on your toes," Hermione warned. She feigned with her left foot, dropped it down and spun, kicking out with her right. Harry grabbed her foot. "No! Block it, don't grab. It causes imbalance and it prevents them from doing this!" Hermione jumped off her left foot and turned her hips, slamming her foot into Harry's head. Harry dropped Hermione's foot and she fell to the ground, Harry swerving into the wall. Ron and Ginny turned their head to watch.

"That's IT! There are so many other things I could be doing besides wasting my time with an arrogant asshole who can't follow simple directions," Hermione shouted, righting herself and stomping down the stairs. Harry rubbed the side of his head, fixing his glasses. "She's just a bit tetchy," Harry said sarcastically, sitting down next to Ginny. "She's been under a lot of stress, and you weren't exactly helping," Ginny shot back, giving him a look. Harry glared back. He looked over at Ron, who was focused on listening to the door.

And then promptly fell through it.

Percy peeked his head out of the doorway and then down, giving a small chuckle when he saw his brother on the floor. "Er... come on in," Percy said, backing away from the door. Harry and Ginny got to their feet and hopped over the laid-out form of Ron.

This room wasn't a bedroom- it looked like a small library. Bookshelves lined the walls, extending to the vaulted ceiling. Chipped molding lined the juncture between wall and ceiling, and the windows looked straight out of a church. Light streamed in on the dusty embroidered couches and chairs. Esme sat in one of the chairs, her eyes focused on her feet. She looked up and gave the three of them a forced smile, before returning her gaze downwards. Percy dropped down into the seat next to her and gestured towards the couch. The three of them plopped down, dust flying into the light like glitter.

"You should know. About the diary and all that," Percy started by saying. He was having trouble meeting their eyes as well. "Are you sure?" Ron asked quietly. Esme opened her mouth, but Percy silenced her. "Yes. I think... well. I thought that I could protect the family from all this... but it hasn't worked. Or, it won't work, rather. Whether I like it or not, you're involved in this war more than any adult is, I think, and you need to be prepared for what may come." He looked over at Esme, who was actively studying the lamp to her right. "However, I didn't lie when I said I couldn't tell you. It was made very clear to me that I couldn't." "I can though," Esme remarked, her voice hoarse. "There is a loophole, we think. If not, you'll be Obliviated and it won't matter in any case." Esme looked back down at the floor and took a deep, shuddering breath.

"There is a theory about how wizards gained the ability to do magic. There are two schools of thought on this subject: one is that it is within our DNA, that the ability is a mutation that the muggles lack. It's a relatively new idea held by mostly muggle-born wizards, as they are generally the only ones who even know what a mutation in DNA is. But another school of theory is that something in the soul has the ability to touch magic and shape it. While it is generally not known why, the second theory is based upon the remains of a race of magical beings, humanoid in look with several differences- adults height averaged 6'5", 24 functional fingers and toes, less dense bone structure, and a vestigial loop of bone that sat low in the back. They used magic like we breath air, no need for wands. They believed in reincarnation, practiced polytheism, had councils as opposed to kings. Lots of stuff. Those that believe in the second theory have incorporated this knowledge and believe that it is the reincarnated souls of these ancestors that give us our ability- but our bodies aren't entirely compatible with them and therefore, we need wands as a conduit. Wandless magic happens when we are able to override the mental and physical contraints and connect directly with the magic. It was a theory that my mother was particularly fond of... you can come in, Hermione," Esme explained, finishing by looking up towards the door. The heavy wooden door creaked open as Hermione dragged the Extendable Ear with her. With a slightly embarrassed look on her face, she sat down on the couch.

"My mother, Sadie Wilkes-Rosier was a major proponent of this theory, even wrote a special NEWT dissertation on it her last year at Hogwarts. She left school and worked as a cultural anthropologist, trying to uncover more on this ancient race. Caught the attention of You-Know-Who. The Rosier name is practically synonymous with him, and for good reason. She loved the attention." Esme looked up for the first time at the four of them on the couch, listening in rapture. "Some of the adult Death Eaters liked to give parties for the pure-blood families. My father met my mother there, and after getting extremely drunk... well... I was conceived. Dad was 16 at the time, she was 22. She kept the pregnancy a secret and 9 months later I was born."

"You-Know-Who was very interested in finding a way to uncover the reincarnated soul of our ancestors within people. It would not only make warriors that could best any wizard alive in a magical based conflict, but remains suggest that their muscle tone, bone density and body shape allowed them to be ultimately stronger with less effort- better conditioned and the like. And, eventually when the technique was perfected, allow him to be unstoppable. So my mother was commissioned to do as such. She received a laboratory, a staff of two, and anything she needed in her pursuit. I'm guessing you can see where this is going," she said, almost at a whisper.

Esme stopped there and looked over at Percy, who looked back at her. "What about the pictures, my memories?" Ginny asked tentatively. Percy frowned. He looked over at Esme. "Just nod if I'm right," Esme said, and then began to think. "I don't know... but I would guess that the pictures were created to serve the purpose that they did- give him an alibi. They built us a history- everything from schools we attended to people we invited to our birthday parties. But I didn't get any pictures of my childhood- the only family I have is my Dad and he didn't need to be fooled." Esme checked it out with Percy, who nodded. "How many years aren't real?" Ginny continued, her eyes looking a bit wet. "Er... you're a year younger than I am... that would have put you at nine... two plus four... anything between ages 3 and 9 would have been falsified." Both Ginny and Ron looked desolate. Percy eyes tried to be comforting.

"What about the sketches," Harry asked. Percy gulped, but Esme looked confused. Percy reached into his back pocket and pulled out a black leather diary- the edges were less frayed than the diary Ron and Ginny has found. He passed it to her and she opened it. Her pale face became almost ghostly as she slammed the book closed. She blinked hard several times, as if trying to push back tears that weren't there and pulled herself into some semblance of composure. "When they train Navy Seals in the US, they push them to the brink... until either one of two things happens. One, they quit. Two, they develop the ability to hide away in their minds from the stress- it's a survival reflex, well documented. Navy Seals go several days with 2 hours of sleep, little food, pushing their body to the limit. My mother favored a more... brutal approach, as you've no doubt seen. Anything to be right," Esme answered curtly.

"Was she right?" Hermione asked. A small smile appeared on Percy's face. Esme bit her lip. "Yes... for the most part. Which is why you had to know. There have been lots of precautions taken to make sure we can't... fully exploit... don't get me wrong. There are very strict caveats in regards to what we can and can't do and some... more physical means of prevention. Which," Esme turned to Percy, "are unbreakable. What does he think he's playing at? Imperius and other compulsion spells don't work on us. I know he probably thought he had me in his back pocket because of my father, but you're a blood traitor and have always sided with Dumbledore." "The snake was probably sent to kill me, which means he doesn't know the extent of everything. All he would need was one of us, why leave anyone around to challenge?" Percy responded nonchalantly. At the four's questioning look, Percy squirmed down in her chair, digging in his pocket. Pulling out a set of keys attached to a ring, he separated one key out and raised it above his head. He stared at his hand a moment. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He slammed the key down on his left hand. A bellow of pain shot out of his mouth and he ripped the key out, blood pouring down the middle of his hand. He tipped his head back, sucking in breath through his teeth.

The wound sealed before their eyes, leaving only the old blood trailing down his hand. "Killing Curse is the only thing that will do it. Just so you know," Percy said, his voice hollow as he bent and extended his fingers experimentally. They worked with ease. Esme shot up out of her seat and ran out of the room, her hand over her mouth. The door slammed behind her, echoing through the room.

"Are you going to say anything, Ron?" Percy asked. Ron looked up from his hands. He opened his mouth to say something and stopped. He tried again. Nothing. "I'd wager this wasn't exactly what you were expecting. Mild mannered brother by day..." a strange smile crept onto Percy's face. "How did you..." "Survive? Who knows. Probably luck. Two years of constant therapy after they found us didn't hurt. I was only there 4 years- believe me, I got off easy. By the time I came around, they had it down to practically an art form," Percy tried to joke and failed. Silence purveyed through the room. Everyone seemed to be looking at something other than each other. Suddenly, Ginny pulled out of her seat and collapsed onto Percy, hugging him and sobbing, arms wrapped around his waist. Percy gave a half smile and rubbed her back. "It's okay, Gin. I've gotten this far, haven't I? It'll turn out alright, you'll see," Percy comforted her.

Ginny wound back and punched him in the jaw. Percy's head snapped back, and Ginny scrambled off of his lap. "You bastard! We're in a fucking war and you have the nerve to run out on this family when you are needed the most. We have nothing but each other and how dare you try to ruin that!" Percy rubbed his jaw. "I deserved that," Percy conceded, testing his jaw back and forth, "but I, admittedly, was trying to protect you. Merlin knows Harry Potter gets you into enough trouble, you didn't need another reason to be targetted." Harry shot Percy a dangerous look. "Oh, don't look at me like that. You don't think I know the road you're going down? If you don't start looking on the bright side of life you are going to end up looking on the bright side of a white-padded room and taking the lot of them with you," Percy stood up and stopped in front of Harry. He looked Harry plainly in the eye. "You're not the only one Voldemort wants dead," he added sharply. Harry's eyes flashed. "But I'm the only one that can kill him," he said sharply and leaned back in his chair. "_Neither can live while the other survives,_" he shot out, lounging back on the couch cushions with a grim grin pasted on his face. Percy looked over at Hermione and Ginny's shocked face, and Ron's morbid one. He didn't look surprised. "The prophecy, right? The one... Voldemort," Percy involuntarily shuddered, "came looking for in the D.O.M. The one Neville said broke, right?" Ron inquired, looking over at Harry, who nodded a bit surprisedly.

"Can't get anything past him nowadays," Ginny shot at Ron, followed by a glare. Ron sent one back her way, but said nothing. Percy's head cocked in thought. "Harry wins... Percy." Esme was clutching the door, her eyes and cheeks red. She gave a perfunctory wipe under each eye. "Dad wants us downstairs- Mr. Dumbledore wants to run a few tests... and to see if we can track down Ani and Di," her voice hovering above a whisper. She blinked several times, her eyes wide, like she was trying to recenter a contact lense. Percy looked back at Harry, who was trembling slightly as he was trying to look empty of emotion. "Right," Percy replied at more of a grunt and left in his spot an awkward silence.

* * *

Author's Notes: Damn, I must have re-written this chapter 4 times. I have all this information to give and was having a problem figuring out how to get it told. So here it is, part of Big Explanation. It's not as long as some of my other chapters, but I think it's a bit of an information overload so yeah. In addition, I also wanted to smack Harry in OotP. At least someone gets to :) Hope the build up was worth it! ::gives an uneasy smile::


	11. Getting Through A Thick Skull

Esme and Percy trudged down the three flights of steps into the parlor, where Mrs. Weasley, Snape and Dumbledore were. Dumbledore sat nobly in a carved armchair, while both Severus and Molly stood against the fireplace. Albus gestured the two of them to sit on the couch: a pale green, stiff backed monstrosity that took up the better part of the wall. They sat; Esme quite fidgety, but Percy very relaxed. "We'd like you to each go through your attacks for us. Any information you could give us, no matter how insignificant you may think it is, could be helpful in deciphering their plans," Dumbledore asked, his fingers steepled over his lap. Esme nodded and took the initiative.

"I was getting off of work, it was about six in the evening. I locked up my office, checked out at the front desk, same as always. I left the building and headed out to my car- we work in a building with lots of other muggle companies so we can't get Floo connected. So I headed out to the parking lot- I was parked in the 4th row and I get about halfway over there when I hear the pop of someone Apparating. I turned around and there were three Death Eaters, pointing wands at me. I ran to the car... I got hit with... er... Cruciatus and something else I didn't recognize, but I kept running until I got to my car. One of them Accio'd my keys, and then two more of them showed up. They hit me with a laceration charm, I can't remember which one, and I dropped and then one of them kicked me in the ribs. I knew I couldn't fight back, I don't think they thought I was conscious, but I managed to grab a rock and make a portkey. I know it's illegal but I couldn't think of anything else to do except wait for them to nail me with a Killing Curse," Esme explained, her voice a slightly frantic.

"So you believe it was their intent to kill and not capture?" Dumbledore inquired. Esme thought about it a moment. "No... I was just to be subdued, I think. Although Teresa Avery had to be held back. She really wanted me dead, that bitch," Esme replied. "Teresa Avery? You knew who the attackers were?" Severus asked, his eyes dark. "Not all of them. Teresa Avery, her dad... Walden McNair I'm pretty sure... the two that came afterwards I didn't recognize. One was a woman who had a thick french accent- she's the one that hit me with the laceration charm. 5'4 maybe, thin-ish, didn't see her face. The last one was a man, but that's only because of the shoes. He didn't say a word throughout the entire thing, just watched." Snape's face broke into a sneer, hate dripping from his eyes before, surprisingly, Molly reached out to pat him on the shoulder.

"You didn't fight back?" "Of course not, I know the rules! I made the portkey and I went home. I heard a couple of thumps- the apparition wards kicking in. I grabbed the list, my passport, my glasses, tossed them in my bag. They kicked the front door in and came up stairs... I swung over the guard rail and dropped onto the first floor and ran. Two spells hit me... Full Body Bind, which tripped me up, but I shook it off, and then Imperius, which was just stupid, before I apparated. They saw the passport and I guessed they would think I apparated to the English Embassy in Sacramento. But I made it up to Canada- Charles Vernaise was on the list, English Embassy in Vancouver. So I found him... I think I scared a couple of people but... I told him to contact Mr. Weasley cause he was on the list too and they flooed me out here. I think I freaked them out with all of the blood- I just told them it wasn't mine." Esme looked down at her shirt, still stained in maroon stripes.

"What was the list of?" Dumbledore asked. Esme reached into her pocket and pulled out a slip of paper. "Dad said that if anything ever happened to him... with You-Know-Who and all, that I could trust these people," Esme handed it to Dumbledore, there were 10 names on the list, most notably the Weasley adults, his and Remus Lupin's. Dumbledore raised his eyebrow when he saw Remus's name and looked up at Snape, who rolled his eyes in return.

He turned his attention to Percy. "Oh, there wasn't nearly as much involved in mine. I was reading a report on German attempts at decreasing the gnome population when the door creaked open. I thought it might be Minister Fudge, since that is who it usually is, but there was no one there. Then I heard this hiss behind me... this monstrous snake is in the room. It starts edging towards me and I back into the corner. I tried to dodge it and go for the door, but it blocked my path. I had my wand up and I was going to cast a Protego charm, but then Amelie Rosen, one of the other under secretaries, came in and blasted the life out of it. That was pretty much all there was to it," he answered. Dumbledore's steepled fingers unfolded to grip the sides of the chair. "Did you make a move to fight back?" Percy shook his head, his finger then resting against his lips. "Protego charm only. Any act of violence towards any living thing- I remember the rules," he trailed off, lost in some memory. Albus nodded.

"Private inquiries are being made as to the location of the rest of you three," Albus continued. "Percy, dear, is there any way that you could contact..." Molly began, her eyes tired but hopeful. "No," he replied quickly. "You'd have to rip off every protective device and every spell in order for us to locate them. Sorry," Esme apologized quietly. "No need, Esmerelda. We have names to go on and as I said, private inquiries are being made," Albus said comfortingly before raising to his feet. "I think I shall check up on them. Molly, Severus, Percy, Esmerelda, good day." He pushed himself out of the chair and swept from the parlor towards the front door. "Mum... you have names?" Percy asked, looking up at his mother. She looked over at Severus. "After you were found, every magical school on Earth had their records checked. They are the only complete recordings of wizards nowadays, especially in countries where the wizarding population is almost non-existant. Every name was tracked down until we cumulated a list of missing future students. Extensive tests were used to match those records with the found children: living and dead. Since we were never Obliviated, of course we remember the names of the living," Severus divulged, his voice low and somber. Esme looked up at him expectantly. "Hiroko Okinabe, Aidan Harris..." Severus replied looking over at Molly. "Evarin Alexander, Krisgios Iannis," Molly finished. At the last name, both Percy and Esme twitched, each taking deep breaths. It was one they recognized, and one that no longer existed.

* * *

"How did you know?" Harry jumped to his feet as Percy left and stalked over in front of Ron. "Oh, bloody hell! What is everyone's problem? You ALL keep secrets from me! Well, I'm keeping this one to myself, thank you!" Ron jumped up and slid out of Harry's way. "Well, none of us seem to have any secrets from you, do we Ronald," Hermione said, her voice low and scathing. Ron turned and glared at her. "You're all keeping secrets to protect me, to protect each other. Well, now I'm protecting you. Deal with it," Ron snapped. He turned back to leave, but immediately spun back around to face the three of them. "And don't you say it. I am NOT a Seer, I don't want to hear it!" Ron yelled, shaking his finger at them. He turned back around and walked through the doorframe, slamming to door behind him.

"Alright, what are you two hiding?" Ginny asked openly. Harry and Hermione looked over at her on the couch, her lips set into a thin line. She looked over at Hermione, who looked down at her feet. "I don't even have to ask you, Harry; you're always hiding something. I don't know why you two don't expect the same thing out of Ron. Honestly, I always thought friends didn't keep secrets from each other," Ginny spoke flippantly, before standing up. "Do you know that neither of you asked how Ron was doing? How he has managed over the summer? Let me give you a hint: he hasn't gotten more than 3 hours a sleep since the Department of Mysteries incident, his brother has just revealed himself to be a kidnaped-at-the-age-of-three former torture victim of Lord Voldemort's, his friends don't trust him and he's possibly going out of his mind with things he doesn't like to call visions. Do either of you care? Because you two were all that was on his mind all summer. Worrying about you two. I'd expect this out of Harry, but not out of you Hermione," Ginny argued, her brown eyes sharp and angry.

Hermione ran out of the room and shut the door. She looked down the corridor and made a decision to go down the stairs. Sure enough, Ron sat in the kitchen, watching sugar fall into his cup of tea. After the fourth spoonful, he gave the tea a spin and took a long sip. "You're going to rot out every last one of your teeth," Hermione pointed out from the doorway. A small smile crept on Ron's face and he took another sip. "I didn't like keeping secrets from you, Ron. I just thought the less people who knew, the safer my parents would be." Ron gave her a pointed look. "Unless... oh. You weren't talking about that, were you?" Hermione took a cup from the stack on the counter and poured herself some tea. She dumped some milk in and added half a teaspoon of sugar. She blew over the surface before taking a sip.

"I'm not going to be defenseless again, Ron," she said suddenly. Ron didn't look up. "Not only am I the brains behind Harry Potter, but I'm muggle-born. They sent threatening notes to my house, they killed my cat, Dolohov would have killed me if I hadn't silenced him. I can't... I won't be in that position again. And if I have to kill every last Death Eater to do it, then so be it." Hermione's face was carefully devoid of any emotion, her brown eyes hard. "You've stooped to their level... hey! I'm only joking!" Ron put his hands up as Hermione's look became murderous. "Fight fire with fire," she said simply. Ron gave her a searching look before shrugging. "I'm not going to argue with that. Plus, it'll be nice to see you kick a little more Malfoy arse," Ron smiled. Hermione gave him a half-smile in return and sipped her tea. "I don't suppose you're going to let me in now, are you?" Ron turned to face her, his smile falling. Hermione's eyelashes fluttered gently on her cheekbones and her eyes were warm and inviting. Ron closed his eyes. "They aren't visions. I don't know what they are. I'll tell you the same I told Ginny- I just don't know." Ron's tone of voice brooked no further discussion on the subject. Hermione, respecting the finality, reached over from her seat and hugged his shoulders, burying her head on top of the right one. "If you ever need to talk about them, you know I'll always listen. I just don't want them to consume you," she spoke into his arm. Ron flushed a brilliant red. "It's okay, Hermione. I'll... I'll try. They are hard to explain... but I'll try." Ron put his arm around her and rubbed her back in gentle circles.

* * *

Harry slumped on the couch. "Everything I do is wrong it seems," he said pointedly and Ginny plopped down next to him. "Well... yeah. Pissing off Neville, pissing off Hermione, now Ron. I'd hate to think you were doing this on purpose, one of those "I need to rid myself of friends, they might get hurt" things," Ginny replied dryly, giving him a cold glance before focusing her attention on the door. Harry's look turned sullen. "What would you have me do Ginny? Percy was right, I'm going to hell and I'm taking you all with me. Something's gotta give and I'd rather..." Harry stopped and looked at the window. "Sometimes you are the thickest person ever. Let's think this through. You drop all of your friends. Then you drop all social interaction period- wouldn't want to get any new friends, they'd be in danger. You live in your room, study more than Hermione and when the time comes, you've got nothing to fight for. No one to rely on, no one to share your burden with. You slowly go mad, become self-destructive. See where this is leading?"

Harry's ears turned red and his eyes narrowed. His fist trembled as murderous intentions began to surface at Ginny's glib commentary. "Oh, I dare you to hit me," Ginny leaned over and hissed. Harry's look turned shocked and he leaned back further in the couch. "Consider this your wake-up call, Harry. I know... I know you're the only one who can kill Voldemort, but for Merlin's sake, let us be there for you." Ginny got to her feet and kissed the side of Harry's head. "Do you want the last word?" Ginny asked him as she stood near the door. Harry looked at her carefully, trying to divine some meaning. He looked down at his hands and back up at her. "I just don't want to take you over the edge with me," he said timidly, and suddenly he was eleven again and under the thumb of the Durselys. Lost, lonely and sad. "One man taking 4 people over the edge? Last time I checked you didn't weight as much as your cousin Dudley," she replied sadly. "I guess I get the last word," she added and shut the door.

* * *

The door swung open and clicked tightly behind him as Harry swept into his bedroom. He collapsed on the bed, faced down and spread-eagle on the covers. Harry lay motionless on the quilt for several minutes, struggling to breath through the pillow, his glasses cutting into the corners of his eyes. Ginny's words echoed in his mind; Harry tried to clear his mind of them. Ginny was right. Harry, if he really thought about it, was probably more angry at the fact that he had been seen through so easily. At the present moment, however, he was trying his hardest not to think... and acting out the anger of the permanently misunderstood teen.

He cleared his mind of his thoughts, pitching himself into mental darkness. Shades of black and gray purveyed, swirling down the path Harry knew led to Voldemort. It was tempting to fall through it, to see how far the rabbit hole went. Overwhelming. Intoxicating. He had to be in control, he had to follow. He let himself be sucked through the dark wormhole into his mind, his scar being tugged from the inside. Pounding against the wall into His head. All he needed was a single gap, a small hole with which he could slither his way through. Punch through. Beating his head against the wall. And then, shady light.

"_My Lord, I don't suggest release for Alexander. He's too unstable, we can't trust that he won't slaughter the first person he sees," a smooth voice explained carefully from under a black robe. "Dispose of him- a loose cannon is of no use to us," the words echoed from Harry's mouth. "My Lord, the Institute is impenetrable- there is no conceivable way..." "Conceive a way, or you will find yourself disposed of as well. You live only as long as you are of service!"_

Harry slammed back into his body, sweat soaking the pillowcase. He jerked his head up, his glasses sliding down from the top of his nose. Ron sat beside him, a cup of tea steaming on the bed table. "You're getting better and better at this Occlumency thing. Learn anything interesting?" he asked, taking the tea cup off of the wood and handing it to him. Harry turned over and sat up against the headboard. He looked at Ron critically before taking the tea and sipping at it. Two sugars, milk- perfect. "Shall I call Dumbledore?" Ron asked, starting to stand up. Harry shook his head. "No... not just yet," Harry said. Ron sat back down. Harry grimaced and then began to recall his voyage into the Voldemort moment. At the end, Ron clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a comforting smile. "You stay here and drink your tea. I"ll go break the news," Ron said softly, getting out of the wooden chair.

"I know I don't say it enough, but thanks Ron." He gave Ron a bit of a grin. Ron looked a sight embarrassed. "I'm here for you anytime, you know that," Ron replied, turning towards the door. "That's what scares me. That you won't be," Harry remarked hoarsely. That spun Ron on his heels. "Harry, don't be daft! Of course I will," Ron responded, his brown eyes concerned. "But you might not be. It terrifies me that I'm going to be the death of you," Harry nearly yelled, his green eyes scared. Ron took a step back. "I am going to be the death of me, Harry, not you. You take on too much responsibility, and you've got enough of it to deal with if you hadn't noticed," Ron pointed out, the lopsided grin in full force. Harry glared back at Ron. Ron softened, looking a bit put off. "Look Harry, you have to do what you have to do; I understand that. In the end, I know it's going to be you and him. But I'll help get you there if you let me," Ron said honestly.

Harry looked down at his knees, pulling them up to his chest. He took a sip of the tea and stared into the depths of the cup, trying to garner some sort of guidance from it. "Do you think we have a destiny, or do you think we choose our path in life?" Harry asked, turning the cup in his hand. Ron frowned and bit his lip- in that moment, he looked so much like Percy, Harry had to smile. "I think the path we choose IS our destiny- we just don't know it yet," Ron answered after some time. Harry cocked his head at the answer, letting it soak in. "I never thought of it that way," he said finally, putting down the tea cup. "Stop getting so philosophical, Harry. Crikey, you're worse than Hermione sometimes," he joked before leaving. Harry rolled his eyes and picked up his tea cup. He downed the cup and decided to go downstairs.

* * *

When Ginny came downstairs to get some tea, she found Hermione, Ron, Percy and Esme laughing all over the table. "I know, I know! I couldn't help it, I was really, really drunk and your brother was very persuasive," Esme laughed and blushed. She looked up and caught Ginny's eye. "Hey... have a seat," she said and the rest of the group turned to look at the newcomers. Ginny slid over and took a seat between her and Percy. Esme lifted the top off of a bottle of Butterbeer and slid them down the counter top. "I mean, I was nothing compared to Bill. Ripped his shirt off in the middle of his song and got the strands tangled around his legs and he tripped and fell off the stage. Completely unconscious, it was hysterical!" Esme continued the story. Ron slid his chair back from the table and with a strange look on his face, poured a cup of tea from the stove in a tea cup and walked out of the kitched. "I can't believe you knew their brother," Hermione exclaimed, watching Ron leave with a strange look on her face. "After I graduated from NA Prep... er... North American Preparatory for Magic, a friend of mine got a job working in Egypt as a curse breaker for Gringotts and so we all went out to visit him and there was a bloke that worked there by the name of Bill Weasley. Lots of fun, that bloke," Esme explained, a reminiscent gaze to her. Ginny giggled.

Suddenly, Molly peered into the kitchen and sharply called out, "Percy!" Percy looked startled, but managed to get out of his seat and go over to his mum. She pulled him out of the room and into the hallway. Conversation died out as the five of them strained to listen to the conversation. After a few moments, a crash echoed down the hallway, causing the portrait of Mrs. Black to start up. Footsteps trunched down the hardwood away from them, in theory going to stop the incessant squealing of "blood traitor" and the like. But the door creaked open slowly and a very pale, very gaunt Percy stumbled into the room, collapsing against the wall. He slid down the wall deliberately, his head slumped on his chest. Esme was down in a flash with Ginny. "JJ?" Esme asked tenderly. He looked up into her eyes and there were tears in them. "My ex-girlfriend... Penny. They found the Death Eater sigil over her house. Her parents...she... everyone's dead. They left me a note," Percy answered tearfully. His hand unclenched around a slip of parchment. Esme plucked it from his open hand and she unfolded it. In loopy cursive it read:

"_Oliver is next. Charles will follow. The longer you hide, the more people we will kill."

* * *

_

Author's Notes: I got a few cries of confusion about the last chapter, so I ask that if you were confused, please review and let me know so if I meant to say it and didn't, I can clarify. Thanks for the reviews Silver Mirror, DB. and vez! Sweet!


	12. Midnight At The Oasis

Ron's head hit the pillow like a lead weight. It had been a long night. Esme had practically carried Percy up the stairs to the bedroom his mother had pointed out as his. After some time there, she calmly had her father get in contact with the San Francisco Auror Department before going into the kitchen to make dinner.

Molly had been a woman possessed. She had been on the fire all evening with Bill, Charlie, Fred and George- arranging their return home as expediently as possible. Fred and George, surprisingly, had been the most resistant. Getting their joke shop up and running was harder than they thought, what with Fred taking classes in business management and bookkeeping , and George recruiting investors and directing renovations on their new location- a dilapidated corner shop in diagon Alley across the road from Langston's Dangerous Plants Emporium. It was only when their father, in a rare mood of strict anger, had come on the fire and given them the tongue lashing of their life, followed by threatening to make sure they'd never get an investor in England, that they had agreed to report to 12 Grimmauld Place the next day. Bill had been ambivalent about the move- but had requested that Fleur come with him. Dumbledore had agreed and the two of them were set to arrive in two days. Charlie, calm with an edge, agreed at once and was being, as far as Ron knew, escorted at this moment to the Romanian Ministry of Magic for departure to England. Dumbledore had spoken with Minister Fudge, who immediately agreed to put Oliver Wood under protective custody at a safe house in Scotland.

The Order had been called in that evening and Esme grumbled as her spaghetti for 12 had to become spaghetti for 26. Once again, the children had been blocked from attending, and the doors had been warded against any eavesdropping. Without Fred and George's guidance, the four of them had given up trying to listen in and had retired to the kitchen to eat.

Esme had been pretty silent, her head lost in the clouds all evening. She said very little at dinner, taking to staring at her spaghetti and shooting glances at her father. As Molly started serving dessert, Kingsley arrived with a note which he handed to Snape. He looked at it before handing it to his daughter. Esme took the note without looking at it and ran up the stairs. Ginny had remarked that she had never seen Snape look so despondent. Ron had to agree.

* * *

Ron turned over in bed, putting the pillow over his head. The ache of sleep deprivation was abated by the thoughts running through his mind. The revelations of the day; Percy a victim of Voldemort... no wonder he stayed in denial of His return. No wonder he was closed off. Guilt sparked in his mind- he should have known this, should have at least guessed it, shouldn't have written him off. All the Weasleys had wrote him off... except Mum; she probably had guessed at his reasoning. She knew, didn't she? She always knew. 

A door slamming shocked Ron out of his reverie. He got up, his head a bit foggy and dizzy, and padded to the door, pressing his ear against the wood. A female voice started screaming fuzzily. Ron walked over to Harry and, hesitantly gave him a push. "Harry?" Ron said quietly. Harry didn't move. "Harry!" Ron tried again louder. Still nothing. He put his fingers on Harry's neck- still a pulse, but breath barely moved across his lips. Ron ran out the door to their bedroom and crashed into the room across the hall. Hermione and Ginny slept soundly covered in quilts. He ran over to Hermione and shook her hard. "Hermione!" Ron yelled, fear in his voice. She didn't move. Neither did Ginny. Ron, sweat breaking out on his forehead, ran out of the room and stopped. He closed his eyes and listened close. A deeper voice was bellowing upstairs. Ron peeled down the corridor and took the stairs two at a time, going to the floor above.

"Don't you fucking dare, Jeylon!" he heard the female voice yell. "Then tell me Aerith, what the hell should I do? I wasn't even close with Oliver and they're threatening to take him out! My family is deep in the middle of this war and they aren't going to hide from this. I've got to do something!" Percy yelled. Ron edged closer to the sound, stopping in front of the door.

"What? Offer yourself to the Evil Empire? What the hell do you think they're going to do, lock you up and say 'you came in, so we'll leave your family alone'? Don't be stupid! They either want you dead or they want you to kill, either way, you aren't going to save your family. It's better if we just stay out of the way," the voice he now recognized as Esme shot back.

"What are you suggesting? Run away to America? To Tibet? How far out of the way should we be? Mars?!" Percy yelled. "We should be fighting this, and you know it." The room was silent for quite sometime. Ron raised his hand to open the door, but stopped for a reason he couldn't explain.

"Do you think you can control it? Really?" Esme practically whispered. He didn't hear Percy say anything else, but after a few errant sounds, he heard the sound of footsteps getting closer. Ron froze as the door opened to reveal Percy holding a suitcase. Ron imagined his face looked much like Percy's: abject surprise coupled with shock. From over Percy's shoulder, he could see Esme, eyes made larger by the coke-bottle glasses she was wearing, staring at him with confusion.

"Where are you going?" Ron asked Percy, who jumped a little at the sound of his voice. He just stared at Ron. "Percy?" Ron said, worry creeping into his voice. Percy looked back over to Esme, and Ron followed his eye line. As soon as Ron made eye contact with Esme, her eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth. "No way. No fucking way..." she muttered, stepping closer towards him. "How are you awake?" Percy asked, and Ron turned back to find Percy's eyes searching him for something. "What did you do? I can't wake anyone up, what the hell did you do!" Ron's voice elevated, but the comment sheeted off of Percy, who looked to be puzzling stuff together in his head. Ron was startled as a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. He changed his perspective again to focus on Esme, who had pushed him against the wall.

Percy closed the door gently and looked at Esme strangely. Esme had her hand against Ron's shoulder and was staring him in the eye. Ron looked terrified; Percy put his hand on her arm and Esme seemed to come back into herself. She let go of Ron and backed away, collapsing on the couch.

"There were six of us that survived, Jeylon. And six of us still survive." Ron turned to see Percy look from Esme to him and back. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, his eyes still jetting back from Ron to Esme. "That... that's impossible... you can't seriously be thinking... Ron's four years younger than me, he wouldn't have been involved," Percy finally said. Esme shook her head. "Look. Six of us got out, right? Two years at the Institute and all that crap that Fudge made us go through- then four years later Lian...er... Krisgios was killed," both Esme and Percy gulped. "I... I don't know but... I mean... look in his eyes, JJ! Krisgios is in there, I swear it."

At the mention of the name, Ron released a breath he didn't know he was holding. His body seemed to relax of it's own volition, and he slid down the wall he leaned against. "The brain. The brain in the Department of Mysteries was him. That's why I'm having all the dreams, isn't it?" Ron said, his voice calm with a strangled tone to it. Percy raised an eyebrow, then his eyes narrowed. "Fudge is a paranoid git- probably thought he'd come back from the dead or something. Keeping his brain though... that's a bit over the top, even for him," Percy thought aloud, shaking his head. Esme shook her head. "Wait, brain? Department of Mysteries? What?" Percy sighed, dropping his suitcase. "Ron, Ginny, Harry, Hermione and two other children chased after You-Know-Who in the Department of Mysteries, which is in the Ministry of Magic. While there, Ron got concussion and was attacked by a brain. Apparently, it was Li... er... Krisgios's," Percy explained. Esme looked at Percy, disbelieving and puzzled. Something seemed to click in her head, and her mood turned fierce. "That fucking bastard... I can't believe... fuck!" Esme shouted, picking up the lamp and throwing it against the wall.

"Well... that's why he's awake- the spell didn't work on him," Percy said sadly, his suitcase dropping from his hand. He crouched down in front of Ron, who was emotionless. "It doesn't explain everything, but it explains a lot," Ron said dully, his eyes far away. Percy looked down at his hands, balancing on his knees. "It explains the dreams, but not the intuition, I know. Do you know how to get rid of him? In my head? Madam Pomfrey gave me some salve but it doesn't hardly work anymore, and I'd really like to stop having those dreams... of you..." Ron trailed off, the images in his head coming unbidden. It was Percy he was watching in those dreams- the full weight of that finally sunk in.

He wrapped his arms around Percy in a death grip, burying his head in Percy's shoulder. A fog seem to lift from Ron's head, and he looked up to see Esme holding her wand. She gave him a sad smile before tucking it back into the band of her sweatpants. Percy pulled back from Ron and took his left hand in his right. Percy pulled Ron's hand and placed it on the back of his neck. Ron's fingertips tripped along the back of Percy's neck, amazed to find several raised, squarish bumps tracing the length of his neck. Ron pushed himself up and looked around Percy's head. Nothing. "It's a glamour- so no one sees," Percy said. Percy moved Ron's hand and put it on the soft underside of his wrist. Only one bump, but it was rectangular and extended almost completely across it.

"There's one on the other wrist, a couple on the base of my back. They're suppressors- for the majority of the mental memories, as well as the physical reflexes and abilities. Fudge had them put in all of us when we were released... he used to work in Magical Law Enforcement before he became minister, you know. He wanted us all dead originally; frankly I can't blame him," Percy explained. "I could," Esme shot, massaging life into her fingers. Percy shrugged. "One of the many rules we have to live by," he said lifelessly, tucking his hands into his robe pockets.

"Do you remember any of it, anything after we were rescued?" Percy asked Ron. Ron didn't think so, but closed his eyes and tried to focus on what he had seen in his dreams. He concentrated, trying to spin past the images of torture to anything else.

Ron's eyes shot open. "I've got to go. Harry's up," Ron said curtly, rising up against the wall. Ron smiled. "I don't want to give him any more trouble than he already has," he explained.

"I could probably brew up a stronger Dreamless Sleep potion to help. The memories aren't technically yours, so it should help you get some more sleep," Esme said, giving Ron a small smile. She gave Percy a peck on the cheek. "I'd better be getting back to bed," she said, her voice light and whispery. She picked up Percy's suitcase and breezed past Ron, the small case thunking against her calf as she moved. Percy scowled, and Ron made a motion to comfort. "She's just trying to protect you, I think." Percy smiled a little and reopened the door. "Yes. I get that," he said simply, letting Ron out.

When Ron made his way back to his room, Harry was sitting on his pillow, knees buckled to his chest. "Nightmare?" Ron asked, turning away from Harry to gently close the door. Harry shrugged. "Cedric, Sirius; same old torture," Harry said dryly, his eyes narrowing when Ron visible flinched. "You?" Harry asked. Ron sat down on his bed, not giving a response. Harry got off of his bed and sat down on Ron's.

"This is my attempt to be more compassionate- humor me," Harry joked. Ron didn't laugh. Ron sat cross-legged on the bed, his head in his hands. "Everything is moving so fast. I keep trying to play catch up but as soon as I manage to wrap my head around one thing, I'm already half way through something else, and I didn't even realize it. I'm not cut out for this," Ron complained, sighing heavily at the end. "There is too much going on in my head and I'm not even in control of half of it. I knew you were going to be awake; I was thinking about something different entirely and then there it was. Harry was going to wake up," Ron growled frustratedly.

Harry frowned. A moment flittered through his mind, a cutting remark about how Ron was finally getting what it felt like to be him. Bile raised in his throat- he couldn't believe he had thought that. He pushed the thought out of his head and tried to think of something comforting to say. "It's trite, but you do get used to it. You just... learn to be on autopilot all the time. React as opposed to thinking about it, that is," Harry said, his focus not on Ron, but about a foot to the left. Ron nodded in accordance.

"You going to tell me where you were?" Harry asked mildly, leaning back on his hands. "Percy was trying to leave again- Esme and him were arguing about it and it woke me up." At Harry's raised eyebrow, he added, "I tried to wake you up, but I couldn't." Ron hadn't looked at Harry since he had come into the room, and Harry, in a rare air of perceptiveness, had noticed. "Don't make me drag it out of you, Ron." Ron bit his lip. "Can we talk about this in the morning? I'm wrecked and it's... 12...30..." Ron trailed off, disbelief coloring his face. It was 12:15 when he had woken up the first time- no way only 15 minutes had passed. "Ron?" Harry prodded Ron. Ron looked back at Harry, but dropped his eyes before they could connect. "I gotta get some sleep. G'night," Ron said shortly, slipping his legs under the covers. Harry got up and, giving a passing look back at Ron, slipped back into his own bed.

* * *

The house was bustling with Harry woke up. Ron was still passed out in bed, snoring heavily, and Harry decided to leave him be. He tossed on some clothes and clopped down the stairs into the kitchen. 

"Harry! Long time no see, old chap!" Fred called from the counter. "Indeed! It's been too, too long," a hand that could only have been George's smacked him on the back. "Hey guys," Harry replied cheerfully, sitting down at the breakfast table and pouring himself a glass of pumpkin juice. "Have you seen Hermione this morning? One of the aurors had her trying to break bits of wood with her hand. Never pictured Hermione for the fighting type," George said, sitting across from Harry. "Yeah, she was teaching me a bit of hand to hand yesterday. Mr. Green's been teaching it to her ever since her family moved. You haven't happened to spot Neville yet, have you?" Harry asked, draining his glass and shoving a round of toast into his mouth. George looked up to Fred, who shook his head. "No, not yet. Mum said he should be back round lunch," Fred answered.

Presently, Hermione strolled into the kitchen, her hair tied into a knot at the top of her head and a purple sweat suit. "Good morning, Fred, George, Harry," she said flippantly, pouring herself a glass of water from the sink and gulping it down. "Crikey, Hermione. Didn't know you were the karate kitty type," Fred cooed, leaning over the counter. She gave him a wry smile and put the glass down gently on the counter. "I'd watch yourself if I were you, Fred. I'm off to take a shower- is Neville back yet?" she asked grabbing a towel from the drawer and wiping her forehead. Harry shook his head. Hermione shrugged. "See you in a bit," she said, walking towards the hallway.

Percy bumped into Hermione as he walked into the kitchen. Begging her pardon, she walked past her and through the swinging door. "Morning..." Percy's voice trailed off as both Fred and George turned around. Percy got very quiet, moving slowly to the kettle on the stove. He pulled open the cabinet door and reached up for a cup when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"What are you doing here?" George's voice had a lethal quality to it. Percy poured himself a cup of tea and dropped a square of sugar into it. "Same thing you are, I imagine. Trying not to be murdered," Percy replied dryly, turning to face George. Percy spun a teaspoon through his tea, tapped it gently and tossed it into the sink, taking a deep sip. "Where is your precious Minister now? Why isn't he protecting you?" Fred piped up, rising from his seat across Harry and strolling towards his twin. The two stocky twins were imposing together, creating a human wall barricading Percy against the countertop. Percy craned his head beyond his brothers, and then swerved around them. "Good morning, Harry," Percy dipped his head at Harry, who gave him a small smile back. Percy made a sharp left and headed back to the hallway.

Fred launched himself towards Percy, his fist primed and ready to hit Percy in the back of the head. With a preternatural sense, Percy slid to the right, spinning on his heels just in time to duck George's fist. Harry saw Ron running down the stairs two at a time, and jumped up from his seat, sliding between George and Percy and pushing George towards the breakfast table. Percy, oddly still, stood awaiting Fred's next blow. It didn't come- Fred found his fist being twisted behind his back and being slammed face-first into the wall. "Fred, get a grip," Ron said quietly, holding his brother against the wall. "Let off!" George and Fred said simultaneously. Ron let go, and following Ron's lead, Harry did as well.

"Thank you Ron, Harry. It's nothing I didn't deserve, but I appreciate you stepping in to prevent my brothers from injuring themselves," Percy thanked, his voice the flat, droll tone that he usually spoke with. He took a sip of his tea, not a drop spilled, and slipped past Fred's glaring form into the hallway. "Oh right," Percy stopped and said aloud. He ducked past Fred and went back to the stove, grabbing another cup and filling it with tea. "Harry, do you know where the honey is?" Percy asked, beginning to open up cabinets. "Two more cabinets over," Harry replied, Fred and George giving him disbelieving looks. "Harry, I can't believe you're speaking to him! After all the bullshit he said- he called you a mental case!" George argued. "He is," Percy said nonchalantly, pulling the small pot of honey from the shelves. "I am," Harry agreed, and shot Ron a grin. Ron chuckled, leaving Fred and pouring himself a glass of pumpkin juice. Fred and George shot each other looks. "You've missed something, alright? Something big. I'm sure Mum will explain later because, frankly, I have neither the energy nor the willpower to do it," Percy spoke pointedly to the twins, before carrying the two tea cups out of the kitchen. Ron patted George on the shoulder, giving him a hopeful smile.

* * *

Author's Note: SORRY!! It's been over two weeks since I've last posted and I'd like to take the opportunity to apologize for that. One of the journal communities I'm in had a challenge and I've been driven by plot bunnies to complete those- so DDTRH was neglected. But here I am, jumpstarting my brain so that I can complete the story. Again, any bits of confusion you may have, please notify me of them so I can clarify them in future chapters :) Happy Birthday John :) 


	13. Seeing Eye To Eye

Ginny tripped down the stairs, having just relinquished the bathroom to a sweaty Hermione. "Ginny!" a voice came from above and Ginny looked up. Esme leaned over the staircase 2 floors up. "Ginny, do you think you could ask my Dad about clothes for me? I'm not wearing bloodstained clothes, nor Tonks' sweatpants and t-shirt all day," Esme called down. "Er... I guess," Ginny called back, continuing down to the bottom of the steps. She peered inside the parlor, which was empty, and then tried the first floor library.

"Charlie!" Ginny cried, running through the door and crashing into her elder brother, who was sitting leisurely on the table conversing with Molly. He had a very grim look on his face, his blue eyes shiny with unshed tears. Charlie gathered his sister in a hug, kissing the top of her forehead. "Hey Gin," he said, his voice hoarse. Ginny went to kiss him on the cheek, but froze when she realized how sad Charlie looked. She turned her head, her eyes meeting her mothers. "Oh... she told you, then? About Percy?" Ginny asked quietly. Charlie nodded, but Molly froze. "What do you know about Percy?" Molly said, flabbergasted, her hands clutched at her chest. "He told us- me, Ron, Harry and Hermione, yesterday. Ron and I found his diary when we were cleaning out his room and we confronted him with it. He was very hesitant about it, but Esme I think convinced him to tell us." Ginny frowned- she hated how everyone expected her to be in the dark about everything.

Molly pulled Ginny out of Charlie's arms into her own. "You knew all the time, mum?" Ginny squeaked, the breath slowly being compressed from her chest. Molly nodded solemnly. "Someone had to remember, just in case," she whispered, her voice choked with tears. Ginny looped her arms around her mother's middle and gave her a squeeze. "Well, I suppose that's two less children I have to tell. Would you go find Fred and George for me, dear?" Molly asked, releasing Ginny and smoothing down her hair. Ginny agreed- when did she become the finder of people? "Oh, have either of you seen Professor Snape?" Ginny asked as she was leaving, freezing at the door frame. "Sorry, dear. He hasn't been here all morning," she answered and Ginny left.

She left the library, nearly running into Percy carrying two cups of tea. He said good morning with a flat tone, breezing by her quickly. Ginny frowned and pushed her way into the kitchen. Fred and George sat at the breakfast table, muttering quietly to each other and shooting dirty looks at Harry and Ron, who were silently drinking pumpkin juice on the counter. "Morning, all. Mum wants to see you two in the first-floor library," Ginny said to Fred and George. She saw Harry and Ron give her a distinct look, and she nodded. "Brilliant- it'll be nice to know what is going on here for a change," Fred grumbled, the two of them sliding their chairs out from under the wooden table. Ginny gave both of her brothers large hugs, both of them giving her a strange look in return. "What was that for?" George asked, giving her a wary look and reaching backwards to check the back of his shirt. "You'll see," she said mysteriously, walking away from them to sit with Harry and Ron. George gave a nervous look to the three of them at the counter, looking dourly at their glasses of juice, before walking out of the kitchen with his brother.

Harry, Ron and Ginny drank pumpkin juice and tea in silence, occasionally looking up when a door would slam. At the final one, a bandaged Neville walked in escorted by Remus Lupin. "Hey, look who isn't unconscious," Remus joked, patting Neville's shoulder as he went to sit with the group. "Hi guys," Neville said, his breath a bit labored. "How you holding up, Nev?" Ron asked, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "Alright. No dain bramage," he said with a straight face. When no one laughed, he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "No dain bramage... brain damage... did someone die?" Neville asked, his voice shrinking with temerity. "Come on Neville, let me bring you up to speed," Ginny said, pulling Neville into the dining room.

"It's morning," Harry said. Ron looked up from his empty glass at Harry. He got out of his seat and started pacing around the other side of the counter, going back and forth in front of the stove. "This can't leave you, me or Hermione, alright. You've got to swear that no one else finds out about this- not Ginny, not Mum, no one," Ron nearly shouted, pointing at Harry threateningly. Harry leaned back on his stool, surprised at the outburst. "Right," he replied, sitting a bit straighter and looking a little more concerned. So Ron began to replay the events of the night before, his eyes never reaching Harry's.

Ron poured himself a cup of tea and dumped nearly the entire pot of sugar into it. He slid down into the stool next to Harry and slumped over his cup. "Now I've got to wrap my head around this. I don't know how much more of this I can take," Ron finished. Harry looked sadly at his best friend. In his most heated moments of anger, he admitted, he had wished this on Ron- he had wished this on practically everyone. As he watched Ron visibly trying to keep himself together, Harry felt the urge to take all of it off of Ron's shoulders. He was hesitant to make a move towards Ron, unable to decide what he should do, what he should say.

"It could be worse," Harry offered, wincing while he said it. Ron guffawed and drank some more of his super-sweet tea. "Not so easy, is it?" Ron replied darkly. Harry frowned, but said nothing. Ron sighed heavily, pushing himself back from the counter, and turned to face Harry. "Don't worry about it, Harry," Ron said, knocking the rest of his tea back. "It will be okay, Ron. I know it will. Do you think maybe Occlumency might help?" Harry asked. Ron's eyebrow knitted as he mulled it over. "Protecting my brain from my brain? I don't know, Harry..." Ron frowned. "It's worth a shot. Either that or you can turn yourself over to Hermione for testing," Harry shrugged. At that, Ron cringed. "No thanks- the Polyjuice Incident has scarred me for life, ha ha," Ron said, slightly amused by his pun. The two sat in silence for a bit, before Ron rose to his feet, his eyes in a far away place. "Come on," he said slowly, grabbing Harry's hand and pulling him off of his stool. Ron stopped and let go of Harry's hand, pulling open a drawer and grabbing a handful of towels. "Ron," Harry said sharply. Ron looked up, his eyes not nearly so hazy. "What did you see?" Ron slammed the door. "Run upstairs and get Esme, go!" Ron shouted, breezing past Harry and down the hallway, stack of towels in hand.

Harry chased after Ron until he hit the staircase. Taking the steps two at a time he made his way to the third floor. He wasn't entirely sure which room she was in, so he ran to the first one he saw. The door flew open in front of him, and he was hit with a barrage of loud music. Romantic guitars and violins plucked and whined through the room as Harry spied a robed Percy leading Esme, in a t-shirt and sweats, around the bed and couch or the bedroom. Esme giggled and then apologized as she clomped on Percy's foot. He spun her around, dipping her down to the tango music. "Remind me to thank your mum for the dance lessons," Esme chirped. Percy flushed red and smiled. "I'm sure she'll be delighted to hear it," Percy replied, spinning her out and then back in.

"Er... Esme?" Harry finally voiced. Both of them turned to the door, Percy pulling his wand out and the wireless on the table near the bed shut off. Esme and Percy jumped a bit away from each other. "Yes, Harry?" she asked. "You've got to come downstairs," he said grimly, and Esme pulled away from Percy towards Harry. "Why?" she inquire, concern edging her voice. Harry bit his lip. "I don't know... but Ron..." Harry didn't have to finish. She pulled a green robe from off the couch and threw it on as she sprinted out of the room. Harry followed her downstairs, followed by Percy.

"Severus, I'm going to hex you if you don't stop moving!" Molly's stern voice echoed in the parlor. With a strangled gasp, Esme froze outside of the large entryway. Snape was strewn on the couch, blood dripping from a gash across his forehead. "DAD!" Esme ran over as Percy and Harry reached the ground level. "He'll be fine, dear," Molly reassured her, her wand stitching the line of blood quickly. "Dad, what in the hell did you think you were doing?" Esme screamed. "Don't be so melodramatic, Esmerelda. It's hardly a flesh wound," Snape sneered from his reclined position. "Don't minimalize this! What did you do? Walk into Walden MacNair and give him a whop on the head or something?" she shouted back, her eyes blazing. "Don't be stupid. You left a lot of loose ends in San Francisco and Vancouver and I had to go seal them up. If you had slightly more foresight you would have made sure you didn't have any friends wandering around with my England address!" Snape bellowed, a the newly healed scrape shining bright red with the shout, his hand pressing deep on his waist.

"So, this is my fault then? My fault that the Death Squad sought me out at work, my fault that the Death Eaters are after you for being a traitor?" Esme's voice dropped low and threatening. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, Esmerelda, do stop whining about utter nonsense. Thomas Avery set some sort of bomb in your bedroom in case you came back- shabbily, I might add- and the blast sent your plastic mobile across the room and it hit me in the head. That man couldn't set a useful explosive if his life depended on it." Snape replied dryly, lounging on the couch, Molly giving him a look. Esme exhaled vehemently and sat down on the floor next to him.

"You could have told me you were going," she said after a time. "I hardly have to report my whereabouts to you," he replied, sitting up from the couch. "Don't be so obnoxious, Severus," Molly lectured, grabbing the bloody towels. He shot her a dirty look, and he finally noticed Harry and Percy standing in the doorframe. "I'm sure you two have other places you should be," he sneered, and Harry's eyes narrowed. "There are a lot of people out to kill you Dad, and if you do something horribly moronic like wander back into San Francisco again, I'd like to have the opportunity to say goodbye, alright?"

Snape heaved a deep sigh, resting his hands on his knees. "I suppose that's fair," he acquiesced. Esme wrung her hands and bit her lip. "I got a bag of your clothes at the front entrance- get out of those pyjamas," he said finally, a minuscule grin on his face. Esme rolled her eyes and got to her feet, giving her Dad a kiss on the cheek. "At least you weren't completely devoid of sense," she smirked and flounced out of the room. Percy followed her out, but Harry couldn't help but notice how dark the black robe looked under Snape's compressed hand.

* * *

"Okay, continue with the dance lesson," Esme curtsied to Percy, freshly washed and wearing a fluttery yellow skirt and pink blouse. "Alright," Percy shrugged. Esme smiled happily reaching into the bag her father brought and taking a small rectangular machine from within it and placing it next to the wireless. She slid a smaller oval into the rectangle and fiddled with the buttons on it "What is that?" Percy asked, leaning over her shoulder to examine the machine. "It's a muggle music player called an iPod. Lovely little machine- I've got a ton of songs on here and I thought for the waltz we'd go a little more modern... all we need is a 3-count, right?" Esme said, running her thumb over the pads until she found the song she wanted. "I think this should be fast enough. Thanks a lot for doing this JJ- I always feel like such a fool dancing and well... this is a nice distraction," Esme admitted, giving him a half smile. Percy agreed and took her hand, his back perfectly straight. "This one spins a lot," he instructed before giving her a confused look as the guitars in the song started playing the intro to Judith by A Perfect Circle. "Go with it Perce- it's the right beat," she said, trying not to laugh. He raised an eyebrow and started going through the motions. 

Esme came to a sharp halt as she noticed the four standing in the doorway. "How many siblings do you have, Percy?" she asked. Percy turned his head to see Charlie, Fred, George and Ron standing outside the doorway. "6. Esmerelda Snape, that's Charlie, Fred and George," Percy introduced blandly. "Hi," Esme smiled, giving a nervous wave. She looked at Percy, who was giving a wary stare at his brothers. "I'd better leave you guys alone. Hey Ron, have you seen Hermione?" she called, giving Percy a smile before walking out of the room, linking her arm with Ron and dragging him away. A moment later, she ran back in, over to the iPod and turned it off. "Sorry, sorry, continue," she said quickly, running back out the door.

"I am going to take a wild guess and say you had that conversation with Mum," Percy said dryly, leaning back on the couch. Fred, George and Charlie came through the door and took various positions against the wall, but said nothing. "Right." Percy said quietly looking down at his feet. "I can't believe that six years of my memories have been altered," Charlie said hoarsely, running a tanned hand through his short red hair. "I wish it wasn't," Percy replied, sighing. That was the only thing said for about five minutes, when Percy couldn't take it anymore.

"Say something! Don't just stand there and look at me like I'm off my head. I'm not going to go on some raging, murderous rampage- I've had plenty of therapy to prevent that," Percy shouted frustratedly. Fred and George looked like fish out of water, while Charlie was frozen. "It's just so unfathomable," Charlie shrugged, his eyes scanning Percy. Percy rolled his eyes. "God, I'm going to have to do the same thing with Bill, aren't I?" Percy let himself fall over the arm of the couch and plop down onto the cushions. "Why didn't you say anything?" George asked timidly, the first sound he had made since walking in. "You're not even supposed to know about it now! If Fudge finds out..." Percy trailed off shaking his head. "Look, there's no records of the kidnaping ever happening, alright? 65 people had to have their memories modified anywhere from a couple of hours to 6 years; all of my personal record files are restricted; every effort has been made to make sure no one knows about this. I still have to see a therapist every week. If I want to go abroad I have to have military clearance by the country I want to visit. I can't participate in any physical activity for competition, even if it's Quidditch in the backyard with my brothers; and if I so much as touch a person with malice, I'm dead. My life is completely regimented and rule-oriented, and I don't like it, but it's who I have to be. I didn't want any special treatment then, and I don't want it now. I'm sorry you all had to be dragged into this," Percy finished, exhausted despite the early afternoon hour.

"If it's really that much of a problem, I'm sure Mum can obliviate this out of your heads," Percy added. "No. I don't want anymore fake memories in my head," Charlie said quickly, his teeth clenched. "Don't be daft, Percy. It's just a lot to take in, is all. Give us some time, you know," George explained. Percy sat up on the couch, his legs still dangling over the side. "I know," Percy sighed, rubbing his temples, "I guess I'm just tired of talking about it. If it's not you, then it's Ron and Ginny, or Mum and Dumbledore. This is a conversation I wasn't planning on ever having with anyone."

"Ginny really punch you?" Percy gave a confusing look to Fred, who was busy studying the hardwood floor. "Yes... she did. Rather hard, actually," Percy said. Fred bumped himself off of the wall and walked over to Percy. He extended a hand towards Percy, a lopsided grin on his face. Percy, with a small smile, took it. And immediately turned blue. "Brilliant Fred, it works!" George cheered, peering into Fred's palm and seeing the small disk strapped to his middle finger. "You are too easy, Perce. Way too easy," Fred joked, pulling the Joy-Bluer off of his hand and patting Percy on the back. "Don't worry, dear brother, it'll wear off in five minutes," George consoled Percy with a huge grin. "It had better," Percy frowned, but his eyes were light. "Damn straight- that robin's egg blue is a horrid color on you," Charlie piped up from his spot on the wall.

* * *

"So that's what you missed being in hospital," Ginny concluded. Neville sat on the dining room chair, his mouth ajar. After a moment, Ginny crouched down to catch Neville's eyes. "Are you alright?" she asked. "Remind me never to be unconscious again," Neville muttered, running a nervous hand across his jaw. Ginny smiled. "It is a lot to take in, but I just thought you should be kept in the loop," Ginny replied running a hand down his arm comfortingly. His cheeks flushed and a grin spread across his face. "Thanks, Ginny. It's nice to be in the loop," he agreed warmly, not able to keep the smile off of his face. He took Ginny's hand and gave it a squeeze; she felt strangely close to Neville in that moment. The end of Harry's fifth year at Hogwarts had inextricably tangled the two of them in to the swirling chaos that was the Trio's lifestyle. It was strange for the two of them to look at each other and realize that both of them weren't the people they though they were. Neville looked at Ginny and saw a person who dealt with obstacle after obstacle and kept pressing on, determined to face the next one. She was a person in her own right- no longer Ron's younger sister, but a productive member of 'the group.' 

Ginny looked at Neville and didn't see the pudgy boy who had shakily asked her to the Yule Ball. She saw a genuine desire to contribute, and the smile of someone who had finally found their place in the order of things. The two of them had been on the outskirts for so long, just bit players in the drama of Harry Potter. The Department of Mysteries had done for Neville and her exactly what the tasks for the Sorcerer's Stone had done for Ron and Hermione- made them part of the Harry Potter gang in the defense against evil. Neither of them could explain why that was such a good thing, but it was. Maybe it was the espionage and secrecy, maybe it was the desire to be a part of something greater, maybe they were envious of the close bonds that Harry, Ron and Hermione shared and they wanted to feel that. In any case, Ginny recognized her and Neville were in the same boat, and it was nice.

Author's Notes: Thanks Silver Mirror, db and my dear, sweet Miss Piratess (when she gets to this chapter) for the lovely reviews. I can't believe that I'm 13 (lucky number 13) chapters in- every time I write I'm amazed that my imagination is still going :) This was a fun chapter to write, I hope you guys enjoy it. You're all fabulous! Hurray!


	14. Only A Man, In A Silly Red Sheet

Lunch was sandwiches. Esme was doing drawn out calculations on a paper napkin with a quill, every now and again reaching next to her to take a measurement from Ron with a long, thin, silver bar with a gauge on the top of it.. Hermione, sitting next to Ron, occasionally would lose focus with the table conversation and make attempts to maneuver her eyes around Ron to see what she was doing, but not even she could make heads of tails out of the furiously scribbled numbers.

For the most part, attention of the table was focused on the Weasley matriarch, who was doing dishes with a grim demeanor. She scrubbed at the porcelain sink, but her heart wasn't in it- her eyes were focused on the Weasley clock, now removed to Grimmauld's kitchen. Bill read sleeping, but Arthur's read traveling and as it clicked over to home, she started slightly. "Esme, dear. Can I trouble you for a moment?" she asked quietly. Jolted out of her thoughts, Esme turned to Molly. "Sure," she replied slowly, getting up and folding her calculations into her pocket. Molly nodded and gave Esme a small smile. She led Esme out of the kitchen, the door swinging behind them.

A few moments later, Esme returned. She sat back down and finally took a bite of her uneaten sandwich. "What was all that about?" Ginny asked, and Esme realized that the entire group of Weasleys and extended friends network has turned their attention to her. Esme, halted in mid chew, swallowed. "She needed me to hook up a VCR to a TV," she replied, giving a knowing look to Harry and Hermione.

"A what to a what?" Ron blurted. "A VCR is a device that can replay events that you have recorded in the past. A TV is a monitoring device- it allows a person to watch theater whenever they'd like," Neville answered thoughtfully. At everyone's surprised look, he shrugged. "Two years of Muggle Studies, I think I should know what a television is," he said curtly, taking another bite of his ham and cheese.

"Where did Mrs. Weasley get a telly from?" Hermione asked. Esme shrugged. "Don't know, but she has a video tape that she wants to show Mr. Weasley. He just got back from an overnight shift," Esme replied, pulling back out her napkin and running over her numbers. Fred looked over at George, who grinned. "Did she ward the door when you left?" Fred asked, a devious grin on his face.

* * *

Fred and George held Extendable Ears to the door of the library. Ron, Ginny, Harry, Neville, Hermione, Percy and Esme gathered around the two of them, dead silent. "Arthur, I'm so sorry! I wanted to tell you..." Molly sobbed, taking huge, hiccuping gulps of air. Whatever Arthur though about anything, they couldn't hear. The familiar 'zapf' of a television turning on echoed through the Extendable Ears and then the 'buzzzz' of dead air lingered. "Just watch, dear," Molly said sadly, probably pressing the play button on the VCR.

"_Quite a marvelous device this is- aren't muggles astounding? Imagine recording all their memories on a little tape- it's like a traveling pensieve! Wonderful... oh, it's on? Well, alright. No need to worry, Arthur, this is you speaking- it's not a trick. Today's date is... 15 October, 1986. Right. Well, Arthur old boy, if you're watching this, then one of two things has happened: one, our dear wife has passed on and you're sorting through her things... or two, something terrible has happened to Percy, and you need to be fully educated on the situation."_

"_Now, don't go blaming Molly for keeping this a secret from you, Arthur. I'm not entirely pleased with it either, but it is... was the right thing to do. You see, quite a bit of your memory has been modified to accommodate a period of time that must not be spoken of. Six years, in fact. You see, six years ago, Percy was kidnaped."_

"_Oh... I hadn't thought about that. Supposing this readjustment failed, and he was removed... Percy was your third son, after Charlie and before Fred and George. In any case, Molly was out with Percy and the twins one afternoon in Diagon Alley's Madam Lithovka's Children's Emporium to get coats for the children when it was attacked by Death Eaters. Well, all of Diagon Alley was- I'm sure you remember that. I don't like to think that the Ministry has enough power to obliviate EVERYONE that was there. But they took Percy and a few other children his age- he was three then... for four years there was nothing... no answers, no trace..." _

"_Four years of torture by Death Eaters intent on training him to become a warrior of destruction. I don't know the theory behind the terrible things they did to him and all the other children, and frankly, I don't think I want to, but he survived... Somehow, he survived. He didn't even know his name... ::a strangled breath::..."_

"_Today, Percy comes home, a bit over two years since we found out he was alive. It has been a long, arduous journey, Arthur, I can tell you that. In a way... I'm almost glad my memory will be erased of this incident... it is a terrible thing...a terrible thing to have your child not recognize you. But the doctors believe that the majority of the children are stable enough to return home- Percy, they say, loves the idea of having siblings. There is always the chance it may not work... but I have to believe it will. I have to believe that you're watching this in a future where all of our children have grown into strong, loving adults. With You-Know-Who gone, perhaps that future can exist."_

Fred and George pulled the ears of the door and looked solemnly at the group gathered around them. They tucked them in tandem into their pockets. "We should leave them alone," George said quietly, looking at the door sadly. "Oh God... I can't keep hearing this over and over," Esme said, slightly green. Percy put a pale, slightly trembling hand on her shoulder, and she tore down the hall, up the stairs to the bathroom.

"Your first birthday," Ginny muttered suddenly. Percy turned to her for clarification. "It's the first memory I have of you. Your 10th birthday- it must have been the first one you can remember too. Mum still has the dress I wore, with the red ribbons. We found it in the back of your closet when we were cleaning it out for Neville. No wonder you looked so wary of the other kids," Ginny frowned.

But Percy had a small grin on his face. "Best cake I'd ever eaten. First cake at that point... raspberries... loads of whipped cream... chocolate cake... she even remembered to leave off the candles," Percy reminisced, his eyes glazed with the sheen of memory.

"I remember at your sorting ceremony, you nearly passed out when you saw the candles floating in the Great Hall," Charlie said, appearing from within the parlor. Percy gave a tight, wry smile. "I'd better go check on Esme," Percy said, turning to go up the staircase. "Percy, Dumbledore was on the fire- he said some doctor..." Charlie said. Percy never heard the end of it- his eyes rolled up in the back of his head, and with a strangled cry, he collapsed on the staircase, unconscious and seizing.

* * *

Percy groaned loudly, trying to check to see if his head was still attached to his body before realizing that moving would require a lot more effort than he could make at the moment. He had felt this way before, and as that memory came back to him, he winced. "Percy! Percy, oh my poor boy... what happened?" Molly threw herself over Percy's torso, sobbing. Instead of saying exactly what happened, the only words he could manage to say was, "Oh God..." His body rolled over of it's own accord on to his side, and tears started to creep down his cheeks. And then, with a heavy moan, he started to cry. Molly looked down at her son and pulled him to her bosom, shushing the white noise that she hoped would stay his tears.

After some time, Percy realized that there were more than two people in the room. Esme lie unconscious on the couch across from him- they were in the parlor- and her father was sitting on an embroidered dining room chair carefully keeping the strands of her hair from falling into her face. Backed against the wall was Arthur, who seemed to be trying to remain as stoic and optimistic as possible by focusing his eyes on some far-away point. Standing next to Arthur, with a hand on his shoulder, was Albus Dumbledore, who was strangely trying to avoid Percy's eyes. He pinched the bridge of his nose, the movement still stiff. Oh. Percy closed his eyes; he felt his mother press her lips to his forehead and slid the heavy horned-rims over his ears. Her fingers trailed down his jaw line and nipped at his chin before he heard the rustling of Molly's skirts as she stood up.

Percy's eyes opened again some time later, with less resistance than before. He rolled onto his back slowly, his light blue collared shirt bunching underneath him. His legs were still stiff, but the sharp tingle of new motion was coming back into his arms, and he winced as he tried to push himself into a sitting position and failed. His head thunked back onto the cushion of the couch, and the contact seem to reverberate through his head. "Are you alright, son?" came Arthur's voice. Percy's mouth, a hard line, tried to curl into a small grin. "Not... really," he choked out, managing to push himself into a reclining position, his head pillowed on the arm of the couch. He let out a large sigh with the effort, his head hanging back over the edge of the fabric slightly. Percy turned his head- Esme hadn't moved a muscle.

"Someone's dead," Percy said finally, rubbing at his throat. The hand snaked around to the back of his neck, and he nearly bit through his lip with the pain that shot through his body. "Who's dead?" Arthur asked loudly, which jolted Severus Snape out of wherever his mind had gone for the moment. Percy shook his head- at least, as much as he could. "I don't know. Could be any of the three, I don't know. But someone is dead," Percy repeated, his eyes closed in thought.

"I thought the six of you weren't connected mentally," Dumbledore remarked, his eyes no long avoiding Percy's. "We aren't," Percy replied quickly. "The suppressors... Minister Fudge thought it might keep us in line; if we could feel the pain of each other- so far it's only worked when one of us has died. After Krisgios... it did. It wasn't as if we needed reminding... but... it's hard to forget when you go... unconscious and can't move properly for 8 hours. "Percy added, and would have shrugged his shoulders if he could. Instead, he just sighed heavily.

"I guess they decided to use something other than a snake," Severus said dryly, giving Percy a pointed look. Dumbledore gave him a strange look, which changed into a knowing one, but said nothing. He didn't have to. "It wasn't Him," Arthur said, looking at Dumbledore. Albus shook his head no. "Which doesn't mean that Lord Voldemort didn't order it done," Albus added.

Esme stirred on the couch- for a moment, it looked like she was going to go back into a seizure. But she didn't- she merely opened her eyes and said in a very hoarse voice, "Owwww..." Severus's attention snapped back to his daughter, who was blinking rapidly. "Esme?" he asked tentatively. "Bloody... contact...ohhhh..." Esme moaned, her face changing from one of concentration to one of shocked realization. "It'll be alright, dear. It'll be alright." Severus cupped her cheek, running a calloused thumb under her eye to catch a tear. "No... no... it won't. But thanks," she choked out, managing to give his hand a slight squeeze. She took a deep breath and swallowed it- she wasn't going to cry. This was her actively not-crying.

* * *

"I've been putting away money to get contacts for awhile," Percy said as the two of them laid rather motionless on the couch. The adults had vacated the room- Arthur to tell the rest of the family that Percy wasn't in a coma, Dumbledore to meet with someone and Severus to work on lesson plans- leaving Esme and Percy to regain their mobility. Esme turned her head towards Percy. "Why?" she asked, looking at him as if he was crazy. "Because these thick monstrosities are annoying and everyone asks me how I ended up with the awful vision considering no one in my family wears glasses," Percy explained, trying to give his glasses a haughty look and merely ending up looking cross-eyed.

"Contacts are twice as annoying. I only got them because I couldn't get plastic goggles made for the lab with the right prescription and I was tired of wearing my glasses under my goggles. Plus... I kind of like them on you," Esme answered nonchalantly. Percy leaned back, examining Esme. "Really?" he inquired, looking at her as if she was crazy. Esme eyebrows shrugged. "Yeah," she replied, and then after a thoughtful pause, "Er... do you know what a superhero is?" Esme asked Percy, who gave her a strange look and said no.

"Well, a super hero is a hero with super-powers. Like, being able to fly, or being able to shoot fire out of your eyes or something; but generally super heroes use their super powers to save the world from a villain. Muggles write comic books and make movies and television shows about them. They are supposed to show the exemplary and not so exemplary sides of humanity."

"In any case, arguably the most famous one is called Superman. Uh... he was from a planet called Krypton, and when he was a baby, his parents shot him off in a spaceship to Earth. The planet was going to explode and his parents knew it but no one believed them, so he was the only person shot into space. So anyways, baby Superman gets shot off into space, Krypton explodes and his ship crash lands on Earth- Smallville, Kansas, which is a state in the middle of the US. But as he was streaking across the sky in his little pod, he happened to get spotted by a couple, the Kents, who couldn't have children and desperately wanted one. So the spaceship crashes and they think it's a meteor, so they go to examine it at and, wow, a baby!"

"So they adopt the young Superman and call him Clark and raise him to be a good kid, and then, when he becomes a teenager, he finds he has all these superpowers: he can fly, super strong, super fast, x-ray vision, laser vision... nothing can hurt him," at this, Esme gave Percy a knowing look, "except for this rock called Kryptonite, which glows with this nuclear waste green light. Clark graduates high school and decides to be a journalist in the big city- Metropolis, it's called. And he gets there and decides that he should use his powers for the good of humanity. So he become Superman the super hero... gets himself a cape, tights, flies around the world and stops evil-doers in their tracks."

"But the thing about Superman was... well, he was always Superman and it was really Clark Kent that was the actual costume he wore. He put on this mask of normalcy and went to work and was Clark, but he was always really Superman. It was just who he was: this fantastic person who didn't give a thought about sacrificing his life for others and just did what he could because it was right. And you know what the only difference was between Clark Kent and Superman? Physically? A pair of glasses," Esme finished with a small smile on her face. She didn't dare look over at Percy, but if she had, she would have seen a very flustered, very embarrassed Percy.

"Glasses?" he repeated, unconvinced. "Yup; that was all it took. A pair of glasses and no one ever connected the dots between Clark and Superman. I mean, Clark Kent was... well, a bit stiff. He followed all the rules, was very interested in getting to the bottom of every situation to find the truth. Didn't go in for the action-packed lifestyle, was... mild-mannered. So while there was a distinct physical resemblance between Clark Kent and Superman, everyone thought it couldn't possibly be him," Esme replied. The two lay on their respective couches, actively avoiding each other's glances. "Well," Percy said, coughing a bit nervously. Esme bit her lip. "It's an interesting parallel. Of course, Clark didn't have red hair. It was that shiny blue-back, and it was... well, not so curly," Esme pointed out thoughtfully.

Percy seemed to think it over. "I could dye it," he began but Esme's cry of shock stopped him speaking. "You will do no such thing! You'd look absolutely atrocious with black hair, you'd look like a gawky vampire!" "You dye your hair red- I know it was black, I can tell by your eyebrows," Percy shot back in defense. Esme rolled her eyes. "For one, the red I dye it is a more magenta red- I could never pull off the orange-red hair color like you have. For two, the whole reason I dye my hair is because I look like a vampire with my black-brown color. Have you met my father? Stick a pair of fangs in his mouth and people would be chasing him with a cross and stake. I'm sure his students wouldn't even need the fangs..." Esme joked, chuckling to herself. "There is only one thing worse than carroty red-heads dying their hair black and that's pale, dark brunettes who dye their hair blonde. Ugh," Esme added, shivering a bit. The two of them lay in a slightly uncomfortable silence.

"So stay with the glasses, then?" Percy asked, trying to keep his grin small and not really succeeding. "Yeah," Esme replied, trying not to blush. Percy nodded his head. "Thanks," Percy said after a moment, smiling at Esme. Esme sighed, and would have said something had she not a moving figure caught her eye.

"Mum?" Percy called out. Mrs. Weasley looked at her son fondly, coming into the parlor and putting a kiss on his forehead. "We just got word from Severus's connections. They found Hiroko Okinabe's body in a temple in Kyoto 20 minutes ago. She'd been dead for about 2 hours... I just thought you should know," Molly said sadly, giving her son a comforting smile before giving the same one to Esme

* * *

. 

Author's Notes: Chapter 14 in the bin. Hooray Fluff! Because I always like seeing my name in Author's Notes when I review, I have to say thank you to Miss Piratess (at least 7 more times) and my wonderful db- I can't thank you enough. Oh... and thanks for reading, Mary. When you get here, that is. I suppose I should take this opportunity to add that Superman doesn't not belong to me- it belongs to DC Comics and WB Television. It's amazing what will come to you at midnight when you're sick with cold and sticking zycam sticks up your nose while watching Major League 2. In any case, after the whole confusion with chapter 10, I hope that Arthur's little video will clear everything up for people. If it doesn't, you know where to find me :) Thanks everyone.


	15. Getting Results

"Hi Ginny. What's going on?" Esme asked, tongue between her teeth in concentration. She had a smallish cauldron levitating over a contained yellow-white fire; she spilled out a single star of anise from a glass tube and tossed it into the cauldron. The mixture sizzled for a few seconds and a triumphant grin spread itself over Esme's face.

"Looking for someone who isn't moping about Percy or practicing their defense skills. What are you making?" Ginny replied, sliding into the room and closing the door gently behind her. She mosied over to the cauldron and peeked inside. The mixture was a vibrant red color, bubbling furiously and emitting soft whisps of smoke and the heavy perfume of... star anise, cinnamon, cloves, cardamom and ginger. "That smells heavenly," Ginny melted, flopping down onto Esme's bed.

Esme gave Ginny a brief look of confusion as she stretched out on the patchwork quilt, as comfortable as if they had known each other for years, but turned her attention backed to her potion. "It's a doctored Dreamless Sleep potion for Ron- tailor made to his specifications. That lovely smell you are smelling is my chai tea," Esme answered, pulling a large green mug from under the chair. "Keep it near the fire so it stays warm," she added, offering the cup to Ginny. She raised herself up from her lounging position to take a sip. She licked her lips and handed it back to Esme.

"Yum," Ginny said, returning to her position. Esme nodded. "Too bad for Ron though: this potion isn't going to taste nearly as good. Unless he has a passion for liquorice and slugs, that is," Esme shrugged, taking a ladle and scooping out some of the liquid, letting it plop depressingly back into the cauldron.

Ginny couldn't help but laugh. "Well, he's had some experience with slugs. I'm sure he won't mind too badly." After a moment, she propped her head on her hands. "It's awfully nice of you to help Ron," she said.

"Ron's a good guy. He seems to have a head on his shoulders... for a Gryffindor, that is," Esme smirked, tongue in cheek. She gave the mixture another stir with the ladle, tapped it on the side of the iron and rested it across the mouth of the cauldron before taking a seat down on the bed, cup in hand.

"Gryffindor? What would you know about that?" Ginny asked, a disbelieving look on her face despite the smile. Esme looked up at the high ceiling, a pensive look on her face. "Gryffindor boys are impulsive and instinctual and the Gryffindor women are opinionated and overbearing. Not that that's a bad thing," Esme shrugged snootily and took a sip of her tea. Ginny's eyes narrowed.

"But there are problems in every house. The Slytherin girls are cheap and whiny and the boys are cruel and obnoxious. Hufflepuff boys are pompous and naive and the girls are flighty and indecisive. Ravenclaw boys are arrogant and dull while the girls are distant and self-involved. Do you know that no other school in the world sorts students using such prescribed personality types? Every other school sorts at random or based on skills assessment," Esme explained, and Ginny gave her the look of those surprised with new information.

"I always assumed that the other schools basically worked the same way. And as to the comment about Gryffindors, I think I say 'Hey!'" Ginny exclaimed and Esme laughed. "Oh, don't be so offended. Like I said, it's not really a bad thing. Every flaw has it's benefits if you think about it. I mean, personally, if I wasn't self-involved and distant, a lot more people would be under protective custody in the US. And if you weren't overbearing and opinionated, you brothers would never respect you."

"You went to Hogwarts? You were in Ravenclaw?" Ginny inquired, pulling the cup from Esme and taking a sip. Esme nodded. "Oh yes. That stupid hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, but I totally shut him down on that avenue. No way in hell was I going to be in that house," she replied darkly. "So I ended up in Ravenclaw, which I guess makes sense. It didn't really matter in the end: I was only there till Winter holidays. I always though that it was because I took some crap for being the daughter of the most hated teacher in school and Dad wanted to get me away from that, but now that Percy's in the picture, I imagine Dad had a conversation with your mother about keeping us in different schools. So my dad bought a house in San Francisco and got me in at NA Prep," Esme explained.

Ginny bit her lip and maneuvered her way from the subject of Percy. "So what was NA Prep like, if it was so different from Hogwarts?" Esme took a deep breath.

"Well... NA Prep is based for the whole of North America for one thing. Canadian, Mexican and America students attend one of two campuses: one is on an island off the coast of Washington and the other is in Massachusetts. Not that you know where either of these places are, but when you first attend, there are some language barriers because some speak English, some speak Spanish and some speak French. But whatever. There are six houses at the schools, but you're sorted randomly so it doesn't really carry any connotations with it."

"Another thing is Muggle Studies. Here it's an optional class, but because the population of the three countries are so huge and the chance of you being the only wizard in a 100 mile radius isn't totally uncommon, all the students need to be well versed on how to blend in. You take it all seven years of school AND during your fifth year, you have to spend 2 months at a muggle school."

Ginny gawked. "Really! What's it like!?" she asked bubbly, sitting up on the bed. "It was fun. It's great because you get to see all the stuff you don't in class. Like, going to movies with friends, or keeping up on a tv show so you can talk about it at school, or calling each other on the phone when you're bored. I mean, the people aren't so different: teachers are teachers and students are students, but everything else is... different."

Ginny's smiled with a faraway look. "That is brilliant," she said a bit reverentially, and the two sat there for a moment, just thinking.

"People underestimate you, don't they Ginny?" Esme said suddenly. Ginny chuckled to herself. "I'm a year younger than Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville, and the only girl in the family. I've gotten used to it," Ginny laughed. But when she stopped, she realized that Esme wasn't laughing. She was peering inquisitively at her, trying to search her for something.

"Not very many people would have done what you did for Percy. After all he said, the way he treated you guys... it was really..." Esme seemed lost for words, and intensely focused on the patterning on the quilt. Ginny sighed and Esme looked up. "Why did you come in here?" Esme asked, looking up at Ginny.

Ginny frowned and sought out an answer. "Hermione is so preoccupied with training for her great female samurai mission against evil. Talking to Harry lately is like walking across a floor that you could fall through at any moment. And my family is so wrapped up in Percy... everyone is just so wrapped up in the war, and it's all the time! I mean, I understand that there is a war and that all of us are involved in one way or another, but it's so stressful to have this hanging over every bloody conversation," she spat furiously. "I thought... but the conversation always manages to come around to Percy, or fighting, or something, even with you," Ginny added, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at the door.

Esme bit her lip. "I only brought it up... I've never had any siblings. I mean, my dad is generally a bastard- I'm an adult, I can admit that. But I always kind of hoped that he would meet someone and I'd get a brother or sister. I only brought it up because Percy's really lucky to have you and Ron and..." Esme stood up and stalked around the posters of the bed. "We had a moment, you know. I hate the fact that I keep having to come back to the past; I hate the fact that my father treats me as if I'm going to shatter and Dumbledore looks at me like I'm going to go on a murderous rampage; believe me, we are completely on the same page. And it was lovely to finally talk to someone about something unimportant, and interesting," Esme grumbled, collapsing on the bed. She frowned at Ginny. "It was a sister-ish moment. And as incredibly inarticulate as it ended up, I was trying to find a way to thank you for it, cause it's exactly what I needed because if I have to explain to one more person all the fun intricacies of my past, I'm locking the door to my room and not coming out!"

Esme picked at the stitches in the quilt. "I feel dumb," Esme sighed, smacked her forehead and fell back onto the bed. "And embarrassed. Let's chalk it up to Esmerelda's lack of people skills," she said to the ceiling.

Ginny swung into Esme's line of sight wearing a small grin. "You just need to stop thinking so much and just say what's on your mind. That's a Gryffindor thing, though," Ginny remarked. Esme rolled her eyes, but smiled just the same. A beeping sound echoed through the bedroom and Esme got to her feet to check on the potion.

"So, you and Percy, huh?" Ginny said, a wide smile behind Esme's back. Esme pointed at the fire with her wand and it burst into a rain of white glitter that vanished as it hit the floor. She pulled out another glass vial from the holder balanced on a stool next to the cauldron and pulled three leaves from the stash. She crunched them in her hand and dropped them in.

"It rather obvious, Esme, don't try to deny it," she egged on, laying on her stomach and kicking her legs in the air. Esme put the vial back in the holder and turned to meet Ginny's smirking eyes. She grabbed the poster and swung back and forth on it. "I'm not known for opening up to people, mostly because I'm not allowed, but mostly because... well, I don't relate well to people all the time. But... I don't know. It's nice to have someone that knows, and understands, you know? And Percy's a good guy, even if he doesn't believe it. I do. But it doesn't really matter... it'd never work out," Esme sighed and swung herself on to bed.

"Why?" Ginny inquired. Esme's eyes darkened and her lips formed a hard line. "Complicated reasons that involve things we are trying to not discuss." Esme's tone halted that road of discussion, but she didn't let the conversation die. "Isn't Bill supposed to be coming today?" she asked, but she never got an answer. A loud shriek sounded up the staircase followed by the incessant drivel of Mrs. Black's portrait. "Harry! Ron! Neville! OWL RESULTS ARE HERE!" Hermione's voice echoed through the house. A wide grin appeared on Ginny's face. "This is going to be entertaining..."

* * *

When Esme and Ginny arrived in the kitchen, Hermione was hopping from foot to foot, her eyes trained on the golden seal keeping her results shut. Harry had yet to arrive, but Ron was sitting at the counter staring at his letter as if trying to get some read on it. "Oh, just open it you two. I know it can't be as bad as you think Hermione and Ron, I think if you stare at that letter any longer you'll go cross-eyed," Ginny said after plopping down next to Ron. Ron nudged her and Ginny nearly toppled off her stool.

Neville broke through the swinging door from the hall and picked his letter up off the table. Quickly, he slid a finger under the seal and unfolded the parchment. He perused the lines. "Huh," he said a bit surprisedly, his eyebrows raised. Neville looked up and caught Hermione and Ron staring at him, rather slack-jawed. "How did you two do?" Neville asked and both Hermione and Ron's eyes panned down to their unopened letters.

"Er... how did you do, Neville?" Hermione stammered, her finger tracing the seal symbol absentmindedly. He tossed the letter onto the counter and Ginny, Hermione and Ron pounced on it.

Longbottom, Neville Francis

07/31/81

ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVELS (OWL) RESULTS

Muggle Studies: A  
Magical Creatures: E  
Charms: A  
Transfiguration: A  
Defense Against the Dark Arts: E  
Potions: P  
Astronomy: A  
History of Magic: E  
Herbology: O

"At least now I'm permanently rid of Severus Snape... er, no offense Esme," Neville backtracked and Esme laughed heartily, raising a hand to say no offense had been taken.

"Yeah, but it looks like you're stuck with Binns. How did you swing an E in History of Magic?" Ron said and Neville gave him a genuinely unknowing shrug. Hermione nervously patted Neville on the shoulder. Ron turned to her and scowled. "Oh, for Merlin's sake Hermione, stop hopping around and open the bloody thing!"

Which she did. A few seconds were taken up by reading, but they ended abruptly as she erupted into shrieks. She danced around the table, and tossed her letter onto the counter to be examined by the gallery.

Granger, Hermione Jane

09/10/81

ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVELS (OWL) RESULTS

Arithmacy: O  
Magical Creatures: O  
Charms: O  
Transfiguration: O  
Defense Against the Dark Arts: E  
Potions: O  
Astronomy: E  
History of Magic: E  
Herbology: E  
Ancient Runes: E

"Nice work, Hermione. Wow!" Esme leaned over and said. Now eyes were focused on Ron, who was looking dismally at his letter. He slid a finger under his seal and flipped open the letter.

Weasley, Ronald Bilius

03/01/81

ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVELS (OWL) RESULTS

Divination: P  
Magical Creatures: E  
Charms: E  
Transfiguration: E  
Defense Against the Dark Arts: O  
Potions: E  
Astronomy: E  
History of Magic: P  
Herbology: A

Hermione looked at Ron's letter and paled. Ron's eyes scanned upwards, the grin on his face vanishing. "I didn't mean it... I'm sure it's a mistake, Hermione, really," he choked out. Hermione's face twisted into a strangled smile and she backed off. "No, no, Ron. Congratulations on your Defense grade, really," she recovered nicely, a genuine smile on her face.

"No more divination, no more history and Snape won't let me into Potions without an O. Perfect," Ron sighed. Ginny took the letter and jumped up from her seat. "Mum will want to see this," Ginny teased and danced off through the door to the hallway.

"Well... this could have been worse," Harry said from the kitchen table, one leg squared over the other. Hermione, Neville and Ron gave each other a confused look. "When did you get in here?" Neville asked, but Harry waived it off with a small smile on his face, stood up and tossed his into the pile.

Potter, Harry James

07/31/81

ORDINARY WIZARDING LEVELS (OWL) RESULTS

Divination: P  
Magical Creatures: E  
Charms: E  
Transfiguration: E  
Defense Against the Dark Arts: O  
Potions: E  
Astronomy: A  
History of Magic: D  
Herbology: A

"So Harry, what you think we should sign up for next year since History, Divination and Potions are out?" Ron asked cheerfully before a small wooden box appeared out of nowhere and thunked him on the head.

"It hit you in the head?" Percy asked, turning the wooden box in his hands. Esme had called Percy down when she saw that both of their names were engraved in green ink on the top. Ron nodded, a bag of ice pressed to the top of his head. "I just can't believe it got through all the wards that cover this house," Esme wondered, rubbing the back of her neck.

"What is it?" Harry asked. Percy lifted the top of the box and set it on the counter. Inside was a large brass ring and what was easily recognizable as a time turner. "It's a portkey and a device called a time-turner. It allows you to travel backwards in time," Percy explained as Hermione and Harry shot each other knowing looks. "So. We'll see you lot later," Percy added, nudging Esme towards the dining room.

The moment the door swung to close behind them, the two of them walked in through the hallway door. Esme's pale skin was ghostlike as she floated somberly past the four of them and swept past the four of them, completely in her own world. She pulled out a large jug of Ogden's Old from a high cabinet and nicked a large glass before sweeping back out of the room. Percy looked quite opposite: his face was flushed an angry magenta and heat seemed to be wafting off of his body as he steamed through the kitchen. But he too said nothing as he nicked himself a cup and stormed out of the room. Ron looked at his three friends and followed Percy out.

"Percy. Percy!" Ron called, chasing him down with his longer legs before Percy started to climb the staircase. Percy shrugged Ron's attempt to catch his wrist and took off upstairs. It didn't dissuade Ron, and he took off up the stairs after him. "Percy, come on!" Ron grumbled, stopping Percy at the second floor landing.

"RON!" Percy roared, spinning on his heels. Ron took a step back. When Ron said nothing in reply, Percy was at a loss: his hands trembled, fingers clenching and unclenching into fists, his body thrumming like an engine in park. He took a deep, shaky breath. "Ron, I admire your initiative and your concern, but I really, really don't want to hash everything out at the moment, alright?" Percy said as calm as he could manage, which admittedly wasn't very. His avoiding eyes finally caught Ron's, and a shiver spiraled down Ron's spinal cord.

Ron's eyes widened as an impulse of intuition followed the shiver, and he stumbled back against the stairs, clasping the railing to steady himself. Ron shook his head slowly, trying either to clear the feeling from his skull or make sense of it- or both. But Percy took the opportunity to clomp skywards to the third floor. Ron stumbled to his feet and took off down the second floor corridor, swinging open the door to his parent's room.

"Oh Ron! An O in Defense! Five E's! Excellent, excellent work, son!" Molly congratulated shrilly, blind-siding Ron with a massive hug. Ron choked as the breath was squeezed out of him, but he waited until she had sufficient squeezed the stuffing out of him before shrugging her off.

"They're going to take him, Mum. Percy... and Esme. They're taking them back," Ron spat out, taking in a few deep breaths. Ginny's face molded into one of shock, but Molly's formed one of absolute ferocity. She stormed out of the room, Ron and Ginny chasing after her as she nearly flew down the staircase to the parlor. Her wand raised and the pot of green powder flew to her hands. She tossed a handful into the fire.

"Severus! SEVERUS! Answer your fire immediately!" Molly screamed, jutting her head into the green magical fire within the fireplace. After no response, she pulled her head out and raised her wand. Scathing orange light shot out of it. "SEVERUS!" she shouted once again and the three of them jumped as a door slammed.

"Hellfire, Mum! What's with all the racket?" George called from the staircase. Molly turned her attention away from the fire for a moment to storm to the staircase. "George, get your father here now!" she shouted and refocused herself back at the fireplace. She wound her wand back up, but was interrupted by the unmistakable mug of Severus Snape floating eerily in the green fire.

"You hit me with that spell again woman, and you'll spend the next week believing you're a chicken," Severus said, loathing dripping from his words. The orange light died at the tip of her wand as she rolled her eyes. "Get Albus and get your arse over here now, you twit! The Institute's trying to take back our kids."

* * *

Author's Notes: I've noticed as of late my writing has been extremely fluffy- including this chapter. Well, gentle readers, savor it while you can, cause it's not going to last for much longer. Things are definitely about to get worse.

A-Chan: I'm trying out the reformatting in this chapter, so I hope you're still reading so you can tell me what you think. You are my 50'th reviewer! YAY!!!!!!!

Drangedcritic: I do not see this sort of thing everyday! Honestly! In reading the 5th book, I was really disappointed in Percy's behavior and I tried to reason out why he may have said and done the things he did. With JKR putting to rest the idea that maybe Percy was under Imperius or something else, I tried to seek out a plausible explanation for his actions: fear. And then... it just grew. I hope that it doesn't deter you from reading further, however :)

Schizo13: yay! Vampires! I wish I had some drawing skillz so that I could show Daddy and Daughter vampire... it would be hilarious!

DB: I'm glad you liked the video- frankly, I think that if I were in Arthur's place, I'd want to hear the story coming from the person I trust the most: me. As for Percy as Superman... thanks :

Thanks to americanrage on the lj for letting me hijack her OWL scores. You are a godsend!

For all the rest of you out there reading, thanks and see you in 16!


	16. Distractions

"Pass me the sugar, Harry," Ron asked politely. He receive the pot and proceeded to dump half the contents into his tea. Neville took it next and spun about a teaspoon of the white crystals into his own cup. Fred and George plopped into two of the kitchen chairs, a wireless in Fred's grasp and two bottles of stout in the other. George put the wireless on the kitchen table and turned it on, spinning the dial until the familiar trumpeting sung through out the kitchen: Monday Night Quidditch was about to begin.

"Damnit, George! Turn that down!" Ginny hissed from the kitchen-dining room door. Both Ginny and Hermione had planted themselves in front of it, attempting in vain to listen to the raucous conversation going on in the parlor. Charlie strolled in and pulled a stool to the table, unstopping his own bottle of beer with a cheerful, expectant look on his face. Neville clapped him on the back at the site of Charlie's pale blue shirt and the floating, glittering arrow that looked to be piercing his skull with a huge smile on his face.

Arthur had arrived home about 20 minutes ago, quickly followed by Professors Snape and Dumbledore. What had started as a calmly discussed topic had elevated to yelling, mostly Molly at Severus for being pointedly unhelpful and even towards Dumbledore for his strange temerity in regards to speaking with any Institute authorities on the matter. Arthur was trying to play mediator, but after a time, even Snape was getting annoyed at what seemed to be a particularly avoidant Dumbledore. But the last thing they had heard on the subject was several minutes ago (Dumbledore trying to reassure all parties that Percy and Esme would be well protected), when Hermione and Ginny could only assume that one of the adults had but a privacy spell on the room.

_Good evening witches and wizards, and welcome to another edition of Monday Night Quidditch here at the beautiful greens of Arrows Colosseum in North Lincolnshire where Appleby looks to topple Scotland's Pride of Portree on this frost evening. As always, I'm Sloane Peterson here with my co-host Nigel Frye-Harpsburg: Nigel, how are things shaking out right now?"_

"_Well, Sloane, the Arrows had been on a tear through the Premier League the last three weeks, dismantling Wimbourne, Kenmare, and this season's little team-that-could, the Caerphilly Catapults, which as you may remember took down defending champion Montrose earlier this season in a stunning, 2 day, 1450-1310 win. The Arrows have mainly Roderick Clemens to thank: he was moved to the beater position at the beginning of this year when Abigael Van Austerling took a sabbatical to give birth to her triplets, and alongside Lionel Taylor, the two of them have been cleaning house, giving seeker Masamichi Oshima room to work. Oshima, formerly of the Toyohashi Tengu, recently had this to say on the differences between the Japanese League and this one:"_

"_...Perhaps the greatest obstacle I've had to overcome is the temperature change: the cold wind makes it hard to keep your muscles warm while you hunt out the snitch. There is only so much wool you can wear before you feel as heavy as a sheep, and I need to be quick on my broom, so I find myself making many more attempts to fake a snitch spotting if only to keep myself warm."_

"_But the Arrows are going to have to beat out young Pride Keeper Melissa Wingo, the Wonder from Down Under, who has a blocking percentage of .783, highest in the league. Solid defense against all three poles, she risks life and limb for a save, as seen particularly against the Falcons when she dived off of her broomstick to save what would have been the game winning point. I don't think a crunch like that had been heard for quite some time, Sloane. Six broken ribs! However, in a pre-game interview with our own Keith Gould, she said..."_

"_...But that will have to wait until the post game show, Nigel, because the referee has come out for the start of the game. Away team Pride of Portree kick off into the air- Clemens, Taylor, McGinty, Farnsworth, Arnold, Connor-Hartley and Oshima take their positions as the home crowd gives a warm welcome to their Arrows- Gammonds, Reynolds, Ravich, Scott, Berman, Wingo and Hall. Players take their positions as Garamond Korrick drops the trunk in them at the halfway mark... and we're underway!"_

The kitchen door swung open from the hall. "Charlie, keep an eye on everyone. We'll be back in a few hours," Molly said sharply, not bothering to get a response before stomping back down the hallway. As the door swung back and forth from the force Mrs. Weasley had exerted, they could hear her shout up the stairs for Percy. Surprisingly, all they heard subsequently was the patter of a pair of feet coming down the stairs, but not the shrill screams of Mrs. Black's portrait.

As the front door slammed, Percy walked glumly into the kitchen and sat down at the table, snatching Charlie's beer out of his hands and nearly emptying it. "What are we listening to?" he said dryly, handing the beer back to Charlie and walking over to the cupboard and pulling out one of his own, hitting it with a cooling charm and shooting the cork off. He took a long gulp and looked at the twins.

"Pride at Arrows, the game just started up. Never fancied you for a pint, Percy. Figured you'd be more the Cabernet Sauvignon type," Fred teased, nudging George. Percy gave Fred a pointed look. "Cabernet Sauvignon? Can you even spell that?" Percy shot back haughtily, taking a sip of his beer. Charlie stole Percy's beer from him and took a sip, giving him a swat on the back of the head. "Shut up, you lot, we're missing the match!"

"_Farnsworth to Arnold; he's at the halfway mark; challenged by Ravich; beautiful reverse pass to Arlene McGinty as she shimmies under Berman; McGinty to Arnold; Arnold to McGinty; nice dodge from Reynold's bludger shot; McGinty to Arnold; Arnold to... Berman slices down in front of Farnsworth, taking the quaffle and launching it down the pitch to Scott; he's all alone; Scott coming down the left side; Taylor and Clemens load up for a Dopplebeater Defense- look at that bludger go!; Scott rolls to the left, pulling the broomstick with him; he's flying upside down as moves across the pitch!; here comes Carson Arnold- he's accelerating with some speed but he's not going to get there in time!; Scott swings upright as he corkscrews skyward; Connor-Hartley dives; GOAL!!!! Stuart Scott in the top right ring for 10!" _

"Percy, where is Esme?" Ginny asked sweetly. Percy wasn't keenly attentive to the game: Neville and Charlie had shot up from their chairs when the Arrows scored and were cheering raucously, and he had barely noticed. Percy sighed.

"Sleeping. I hope," Percy replied, taking another sip of his beer. Hermione looked at him strangely before the look turning to anger. "You didn't let her drink that entire enormous jug of Firewhiskey, did you?" Hermione inquired. Percy's focus changed from Ginny to Hermione and he gave her a cold glance before refocusing back on his bottle of beer.

"Believe me when I say she needed it," Percy said harshly, draining his beer and Accio-ing another towards him. He ripped the cap off and didn't bother with the cooling charm. Ginny got up to check on her, but Percy's hand around her wrist stopped her. "Don't. She'll be fine once she gets a bit of kip; she just needs some time to process everything. I turned most of the jug into apple juice when she wasn't looking anyway," Percy whispered for Neville and Charlie's benefit.

"_The snitch has yet to be seen by either Seekers, both Oshima and the rookie Hall are lurking high above the pitch; OH! Gammonds has taken a bludger to the head from Taylor– he's spiraling downwards as Arden Farnsworth takes a shot at Wingo; who easily deflects the quaffle to Scott with her tail twigs; Gammonds bounces harmlessly on the ground, mediwizards are checking him out as Arrows manager Al Jaffe sends out recent acquisition from the Tornados Linda Cohen; Cohen does not hesitate to get in the fray, launching a fireball shot that nearly removes the back end off of Lionel Taylor's broomstick- that'll sure get his attention; AND HERE WE GO!; OSHIMA AND HALL HAVE SPOTTED THE SNITCH; THE VETERAN OSHIMA BRAKES RIGHT AND SETS OFF TOWARDS PORTREE'S GOAL, HALL TAKES THE HIGH ROAD; THE SNITCH DIVES STRAIGHT DOWN; OSHIMA IS AHEAD BUT BOY, CAN HALL REALLY FLY!; THEY PULL NECK AND NECK AS THE SNITCH ZOOMS HORIZONTAL, SKIMMING THE GRASS TOWARDS THE ARROWS GOALPOSTS; OH! THE BLUDGER SLAMS INTO OSHIMA; OSHIMA CRASHES INTO HALL AND THE TWO HIT THE DIRT; meanwhile, our score has increased to 60-40, Portree..."_

Neville practically collapsed in his seat with disappointment while Charlie banged the counter top. "Bloody Taylor, that man's a menace," Charlie grumbled and Neville nodded.

The door swung open, freezing with a crash against the wall and remaining open until several seconds later, Esme stormed into the room. She walked directly up to Percy and slammed the empty jug of Ogden's on the table in front of him. That got the attention of the room, especially Percy's, who turned around in his chair. "Do that again, and you and me are going to have words," Esme spat out venomously at Percy before marching past the table. She threw her previously-visited cabinet open and plucked a large bottle of Vetreskaya Icevodka from within. She stole another large glass from a nearby cupboard and stormed out. The room was dead silent as the kitchen-hallway door swung closed behind Esme, and the sound of all the eyes panning from the door to Percy was as audible as the creak of the kitchen door.

* * *

Percy threw the door open to Esme's bedroom, taking giant steps towards her leaning form. He hovered over her; Esme had her knees curled to her chest, her back leaning against the foot of her bed. The bottle of Icevodka stood in front of the point of her feet while she cradled a half-empty glass in her left hand. "You are seriously delusional if you think this is going to help," Percy snapped, picking up the bottle by the neck and putting it on the bed table.

"Nothing is going to help at this point, or did we not attend the same therapy session?" Esme replied glacially, taking a languid sip of her vodka. Percy rolled his eyes and retook his spot, towering over the sitting form of Esme. Esme shook her head. "Just go away, Percy."

"This isn't good for you, Esme," Percy sighed, crouching down in front of Esme. He pulled the glass from her fingertips, catching her hand, then beginning to trace circles over the back with his thumb. "Do you... do you want to talk about it?" Percy asked hesitantly. Esme snatched the glass back angrily and stood up.

"I am tired of talking. I am tired of being questioned. I am tired of being constantly reminded that someone wants me dead, I am tired of thinking about the past, I'm tired of dreaming about it, I am tired! I am tired, Percy! And it's all the time and no matter what I do, no matter how hard I try: if it's dancing with you, or making potions for Ron, or chatting with Ginny, it doesn't matter because it's always hanging over me and I can't..."

Esme was now leaning heavily against the bookcase adjacent to the bed, tears streaming down her face. "The moment I'm safe at the Institute, my Dad's going to go back to bring the Order's bitch... I know it. And he's going to die because he'd rather die than sit still and be useless and I'm not going to have anyone to come back to because every other member of my family would give their right testicle to offer me up as a present to the Dark Lord. Everything is falling apart... I can't keep feeling like this, I can't! So it's either I make every attempt to drink myself into unconsciousness or I stick my hand into the fireplace because anything has to be better than this," Esme finished, her voice and body trembling as one hand held onto the bookcase for stability and once clutched her glass for dear life. Her glasses bobbed on her face as she temporarily released the bookshelf to wipe her eyes.

Percy was at a complete loss and made no attempts to hide it. He hadn't moved from his crouch during Esme's tirade, but he did now. Percy stood up slowly and walked back to the bed table, picking up the bottle of Icevodka. Topped off Esme's glass. Proceeded to polish off a quarter of the bottle before taking his next breath. He took Esme by the hand and pulled her down to the ground. Esme's knees snapped to her chin and Percy wrapped an arm around her still-trembling shoulder.

"When I woke up, after Di died. Completely collapsed. Of course, I wasn't nearly as articulate as you just were," Percy said matter-of-factly, taking another belt from the bottle and starting to feel the warmth of the alcohol-induced buzz. Esme sipped her glass, staring someplace into the distance. Percy turned to look at Esme. "It was a lot of me frozen on the couch, crying incessantly. Very embarrassing, really," Percy added, his eyes trained for any reaction. Nothing- not even a flutter of an eyelid. Percy frowned, pulling Esme into his shoulder.

"Well, you always were a bit of a crybaby."

Percy leaned back, looking down his nose at Esme. Her eyes were still trained some where far off, but a smile, barely perceptible, had settled on her face. "I don't believe you. I'm sitting here, trying to be comforting, emasculating myself to make you feel better and that's all you have to say? That I'm a crybaby," Percy replied, shocked.

And then was even more shocked to find Esme lips upon his own. And remained there. For several seconds.

"And thank you," Esme said softly with that same small smile. Those dark green eyes magnified, looking up at him with gratitude and vulnerability. In all of his life, Percy had never wanted to take off his glasses and really see anyone for who they really were as much as he wanted to see Esme right now.

Gryffindor. Chivalry. Fuck.

Percy lowered the arm around Esme's shoulders to the back of them and slid his other arm gently under her knees, lifting her up and carrying her towards her bed. He set her down carefully and removed the glass from her hands, resting it on the bed table. A large quilt was folded across the foot of the bed, and Percy quickly shook out the folds over Esme's languid form. He peeled back the covers off of her face and found Esme already deep in the throes of slumber.

He sat down on the bed next to her, brushing the lank curls from her forehead and smiling a bit at the dark roots peeking across the crown of her forehead. Percy pulled Esme's spectacles from her eyes and folded them gently onto the bed table before standing and gathering up the bottle of icevodka and her cup. Percy placed a tender kiss on the top of her forehead before exiting the room, shutting the door quietly.

* * *

Authors Notes: I think this might have been my favorite chapter to write so far. I don't think I've ever actually seen professional quidditch commentary written out by a writer who wasn't JKR (if you have, I'd LOVE to read it), and since my closet dream is to be a sports broadcaster, I thought I'd try to write some. My greatest wishes and appreciation to the incomparable DB, Miss Piratess and Schizo13. 


	17. Inebriated Percy

Percy was slumped against the door to Esme's room when Ron ended his climb up the stairs to the third floor. His fist was still clenched around the neck of the icevodka bottle despite it being empty, and he was fixated upon the dark wall across from him. Ron jogged over, towering above Percy's folded form. "Crikey, Percy. Did you drink the whole thing?" Ron inquired with disbelief.

Percy's head belatedly turned to meet Ron's eyes. "Oh... 'ullo Ron. No, not the whole thing- Esme drank quite a bit, but I had most of it, I must admit," Percy shook his head, seemingly unable to control its bobbing. He slapped his hand on the hard wood floor heavily. "Come on Ron, have a seat."

Ron's eyebrows furrowed, but he slid down next to Percy, avoiding the large glass Esme had brought up earlier. With everyone still downstairs listening to the match, Ron let his legs stretch out fully across the breadth of the corridor. "You know, if Mum catches you pissed she's gonna really lay into you," Ron offered weakly. A wistful smile grew on Percy's face as his head thunked back against the wall.

"Ah Ronnie... nothing Mum could say right now could make me regret being drunk, cause it's bloody lovely," Percy replied, lifting the bottle of icevodka and searching for any traces of liquid left in it. After finding there was none, he put it back down next to him. He looked over at Ron and crossed his arms over his knees, leaning into Ron a bit. "Esme kissed me. Even practically unconscious she's a good kisser," Percy revealed.

Ron's head snapped towards Percy's. "She kissed you? Really?" Ron reacted, a laugh in his voice. Percy smiled widely and nodded. "It's so strange that under such... awesomely bad circumstances that my life could be going so well. I mean... wow. Really. Wow," Percy exclaimed, throwing his arms up in amazement and nearly breaking the bottle against the wall.

"I have a girl, smart, gorgeous- admittedly slightly imbalanced but really, who am I to talk- who actually likes me and not the vague, prefect 'me'; I have my family back and they're actually treating me like a person as opposed to an invader of mental serenity AND I get the added bonus of not having this huge secret handing over my head every bloody day because everybody here knows. And I'm absolutely smashed! The only way this could possibly be any better is if I got a letter tomorrow morning saying that You-Know-Who was dead and I had been given the barrister scholarship from the Dept. Of Magical Law Office," Percy giggled, sighing and looking up at the ceiling.

Percy swung his body around so he was sitting cross-legged with his head leaning to the left against the wall. "I'm not used to this. Things going my way. It's very... different," Percy said thoughtfully. Ron gave Percy a crooked grin and patted him on the shoulder. "Good on you, Percy. Congratulation," Ron said, the cheery tone reminiscent of one talking to a young child.

The look on Percy's face sobered up dramatically as he put a hand on Ron's shoulder. He was at a loss for words, looking down at his lap pensively. He looked up at Ron and gave Ron a tight- lipped grin. "I almost can't believe you're the same Ron who hit yourself with a slug-spewing curse. You're a good guy, you know? I see it; don't let anyone tell you different," Percy finally said, sliding his hand off of Ron's shoulder and squeezing his upper arm.

The corner's of Ron's mouth perked up, but they didn't rise to a full smile. "Can I ask you a question?" Ron asked hesitantly. Percy bit back the obvious retort and went back to his original position: back against the wall, knees buckled under the loop of his arms. "Well, I seemed to be getting more sober by the minute, so I should be able to answer it," Percy replied disappointedly.

"What was... er... Kris like? You know...?" Ron's voice was uneasy as he asked. Percy thought about it.

"Krisgios? I don't know, really," Percy admitted. He frowned as he figured out a way to explain. "One of the things you have to realize is that we didn't really have personalities. I mean... until last year, the earliest memory I had was waking up at the Institute after they put the suppressors in. Then I started dreaming about what had happened, but even with that it's only the pain and procedures. It's not like we all had playgroup together in the between times- at least, I don't remember it. I can't even remember the moment when things finally just built up so bad that I got hijacked by my past life, or magical spirit or whatever. Just waking up in the Institute." Percy's face had taken on the form of careful blankness, looking out at the wall across from him but not really seeing it. "When I woke up, I was a complete blank slate," Percy said his voice low, mournful. He dropped his head down, letting his spectacles fall down his nose as he pinched the bridge.

"In any case, the two years we spent at the Institute was just basic stuff- English language, motor skills, because after those chips were put in, we lost all of them. Just basic, basic stuff so that we could possibly function in society. All the stuff about personality just wasn't as important as making sure we knew what you did with a spoon, or the difference between blankets and large towels. I mean, I'm sure Kris was a nice bloke but whether he was funny or bossy I really couldn't tell you. I never saw him again after I left," Percy said uncomfortably.

"Liandrel was a healer though," Percy added, rather abruptly. "When we'd go into therapy, we'd have to talk about how much we remembered from our past lives. Liandrel was a healer, married with three kids. Kris didn't remember a lot- I don't remember a lot- about his past life, but he remembered that."

Ron was disappointed with the information, which Percy caught. "It doesn't matter. I mean, Esme calls me JJ sometimes, but I'm not Jeylon anymore than you're Kris or Liandrel or whoever," Percy assured Ron. Ron didn't look convinced; the flash he had when Percy had looked at him in his office made Ron think that even if Percy thought he was the only one in his head, that wasn't really the case. The man with the golden eyes was buried somewhere deep in that psyche.

It made him uneasy to think that not only was this Liandrel/Kris character in his head, but that there was someone else lurking, a someone who was responsible for making him a wizard instead of a muggle. Ginny had certainly noticed the changes that he'd undergone in the last month and a half- how much of who he was as a person was actually Ron? Would he still be the same person he was had the Dept. Of Mysteries incident hadn't happen, or was he actually going maturing?

He was jolted out of his thoughts as the door to Esme's room swung open and Percy fell backwards into the room. Esme looked awfully disheveled, her hair wildly tucked behind her ears and her skirt and blouse seriously wrinkled. "Percy, it's hard to be passed out when you're being so damn loud. Oh, hullo Ron," Esme squinted behind her glasses. Esme turned around and went deeper into her room, appearing second later with a cardboard box with 20 or so blue glass vials with no visible seal to be found. Esme opened her mouth and started to explain the box, but whatever she was saying, it wasn't English. She went to drop the box into Ron's lap, but stopped when she saw Ron looking up strangely at her.

She looked over to Percy, who was trying to get to his feet. "English, Esme," Percy said knowingly, rubbing the back of his head with a wince. Esme looked genuinely surprised. "Wasn't I?" she asked, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples with the thumb and middle finger of her free hand, mentally replaying the last 30 seconds back in her head.

"Oh. Huh. Well, what I meant to say was I brewed up the Dreamless Sleep potion we talked about. They've got a preservation charm on them so just tap the vials with your wand when you want to take one. They're stronger than what you might be used to, so be near a bed when you take it. Yeah? That sound okay?" Esme explained, peering up at Percy from under the palm of her hand for accordance, which he gave. Esme turned back to Ron and gave him the small cardboard box. "Strange. The vodka must have hit me harder than I thought it would," Esme shrugged, shaking her head as if to clear it.

"How are you feeling?" Percy asked tenderly and Esme sighed. "Still horrible, and apparently, my brain is malfunctioning. Only cure for that is more alcohol. You'd better go put those in a cupboard, Ron, they keep better in the dark," Esme said, already trudging further down the hall and disappearing into another room. Both Percy and Ron followed her down the hall with their eyes, before the door slammed heavily.

"She gonna be alright?" Ron asked. Percy waived his hand. "She'll be fine. I think. Er... I think. I'd better go check on her," Percy frowned and looked hesitantly down the hall. "You'd better go put that away, you'll need it if you want to get any sleep tonight," Percy said absentmindedly as he started walking down the corridor, his hand against the wall supporting his movement. Ron gave his brother a worried look before making his way downstairs.

* * *

"Hulloooooo Dad!" Esme shouted, reaching out towards her father, who was trudging up the stairs at almost 2 in the morning. She fell over and both her and Percy burst into laughter. Severus halted at the top of the stairs, having difficulty deciding whether he should be furious or concerned. Molly, apparently, did not have that affliction.

"Percy Ignatius Weasley, what in heaven's name do you think you're doing?" Molly bellowed furiously, pushing Severus out of the way and stomping towards her giggling son. Percy was trying to right Esme, who was trying to push herself into a sitting position against the wall and failing. "Percy!" Molly shouted impatiently as she stood in front of the two of them.

Percy looked up, his eyes squinting behind his spectacle. He looked down at his right hand, which was wrapped tightly around a dark green wine bottle. Back to his mum. "Getting pissed," he replied, blinking as if to refocus his eyes.

"I'd say you were far past getting, son," Arthur pointed out calmly, sliding next to Molly. Percy smiled. "Yes, yes I am completely in concurrence with that statement. I'm no long getting pissed, I am completely stone drunk," Percy slurred rather lucidly, nodding enthusiastically.

"Esme? My 25 year old bottle of scotch? Really?" Severus picked up an ornately decorated golden bottle that had been discarded some distance from the door to his room- where Percy and Esme were currently parked. Molly turned to Severus, her fury temporarily directed at him. "Your daughter is nearly passed out on the floor and the only thing you have to say to her is did she really just finish your scotch?"

Severus's eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare presume to tell me how to talk to my child, Molly," he shot back nastily, striding over and crouching down in front of Esme. "Come on, let's get you to bed," he said dryly, slipping a hand under her shoulder to put her upright. Esme batted the hand away, shaking her head. "Can't sleep. Tried, failed," she murmured, slumping the other direction onto Percy's shoulder. Percy nodded his head in agreement and attempted to take another drink from the green bottle, but Arthur's hand stayed his hand.

"We'll have another go then, shall we?" Severus tried again. Esme sighed vehemently, gave Percy a peck on the cheek and took her dad's hands. Severus helped her up, and with a glare towards Molly, led her back down the hallway to her bedroom.

"What's the verdict, then?" Percy asked, his head resting comfortably against the door. Molly looked at Arthur, her lips pursed. "Percy, let's get you into bed. We can talk about it in the morning," she said soothingly, the anger gone from her face. Percy pushed himself up from his sitting position, rather shakily. "No...I'd better know now," Percy argued, his voice climbing up in intensity.

At his parents silence, Percy let the bottle drop out of his hand. It bounced, magically protected, and rolled across the hardwood. Percy's lips drew a hard line, his eyes glaring. "Well, I don't know why I'm surprised. It's not like you've ever protected me before," Percy spat nastily. Molly clutched her chest in surprise as Percy stomped down the hall to his room, her eyes tearing as she tracked his form. Percy slammed the door shut.

* * *

"Percy?" Arthur's authoritative voice echoed as he peered through the cracked door. The room was empty and completely devoid of light- only illuminated by the mild glow from the hall. Arthur slipped inside, moving towards the bed. The covers were still plastered neatly to the mattress- no sign of a sleeping form. He stilled his body and listened- the faint sound of breathing caught his attention and he turned around. Sitting next to the open door was Percy, his legs pulled up to his chest.

"I was wondering if you'd see me," Percy said dryly, his face empty of expression. "I didn't," Arthur replied, pointing to his ears, "just because I work in Misuse of Muggle Artifacts doesn't mean I'm not still an Auror." Arthur spelled up a few candles and walked to the bedroom door, closing it. He took a seat on the bed, facing Percy. The candlelight emphasized Percy's cheeks and eyes, making him look almost hauntingly gaunt.

"We wouldn't be doing this if we didn't feel it was best," Arthur said after a time. Percy guffawed and sat straighter against the wall. "How would you know what's best for me? You think a video tape makes you understand? You don't even know me," Percy's voice rang sharply. Percy got to his feet and stood in front of his father. "I've worked very, very hard to make sure I'd never see that place again. If you think I'm going to subject myself to whatever poking and prodding they'd like, you're out of your head. It won't be some holiday at a hotel, I don't care what those bloody doctors told you," Percy shouted.

"They didn't tell me. Aidan did," Arthur replied smoothly. Percy took a step back, shocked. "Aidan? Aidan Harris?" Percy choked out. Arthur nodded, standing up. "They brought him in two days ago. Believe me, Percy, we didn't just take their word for it. All three of us checked the place out thoroughly."

Arthur sighed. "To tell you the truth, I still don't feel comfortable with you going. You're right- I don't completely understand everything that's happened. I still can't remember any different than my son growing up right before my eyes. And it's hard for me to admit that somebody could protect you better than I could even when I know it to be true, because for me, I've always had that job."

Percy looked down at the carpeted floor. "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you," Arthur said hoarsely. "Oh Dad..." Percy sighed, fighting for something to say. Arthur beat him to it. "Ginny... Ron... now you... I can't let my pride get in the way of protecting you, Percy. You're too important to me," Arthur said, smiling in a lopsided way. Percy's face cracked into a tiny grin as he closed his eyes and tried say something. When he couldn't, he found himself in the midst of a bear-hug

"I'm sorry for the way I behaved," Percy said when he could. Arthur chuckled. "You were angry. And pissed. I think we'll excuse it just this once," Arthur smirked. Percy pulled back a little out of Arthur's arms and looked up.

"Not just for that. For before. I... I had no right to say what I said to you, about our family; any of it," Percy clarified. Arthur didn't say anything in response, just clapped him on the shoulder warmly.

"You'd better get some sleep. It's been a rough day. You can apologize to your mother in the morning," Arthur finally said, the normal optimistic and comforting tone back to his voice. Percy walked over to the bed and toppled onto it- not bothering to change his clothes nor pull up the covers. Arthur chuckled to himself a bit as Percy began to maneuver himself under the covers. "Percy?" Arthur called from the door. "Hmm?" he called from under the covers.

"Are you and Esme..." Arthur began. "Good night, Dad," Percy groaned and the ruffle of covers being pulled over a head echoed through the room. The floating candles dissipated into smoke, the room darkening slowly. "Good night, Percy," Arthur replied, shaking his head and closing the door.

* * *

Author's Notes: Awww... I feel warm and squishy inside. Yay. Many thanks my dearest DB, Miss Piratess and Schizo13 for reviewing and keeping me feeling special. 


	18. Then The Morning Comes

Harry twiddled his wand between his fingers, the fine wood moving smoothly across his knuckles as he rolled it over his hand. Catch. Roll. Catch. Propped up on his pillows, his back against the wall, Harry was bored. Insomnia had him in his clutches and was refusing to let him go.

* * *

"_Kateru-yo!"(1) Liandrel shouted at the gaggle of children rubbernecking in the small, half-toppled shanty. The din quieted immediately, but after a time, began to slowly increase. He pushed his way past into the nexus of the crowd and bent down. The painted form on a Derenokor soldier was collapsed on the ground, the blue paint covering his body purpled in places with blood. Several slits pierced his center mass, though by the shallow breath still clouding over his body, not through his lungs. _

"_Qidan verukai-an I?"(2) he barked and a large boy unfolded himself from several feet away. Despite his height, the roundness of his face belied his young age. He clutched in a quivering hand a bloody, roughly hewn dagger. Red dripped down his thin, sinewy arms as he held up the dagger for Liandrel. _

_Liandrel pulled the bit of metal out of the boy's hands and threw it to the ground, kneeling down and tracing a finger over the wound hovering above the man's hip. He rubbed his thumb over the offending slice and it glowed briefly faint yellow. Blood shot up from the wound as the edges began to come together, sealing flawlessly. Another cut, another wound sealed, until all four of them were gone. _

_The man's eyes fluttered open for a bit and Liandrel picked up the dagger, pointing it at his neck. "Demo... im penso ka eram c'e manem vaer. Suvare."(3) The man looked strangely at him with wild eyes, his fingers going to the stab wounds that were no longer there. "Ma..." he stuttered, staring at Liandrel as if trying to divine some reason for his actions. _

"_Vaer-yo. Suvare,"(4) Liandrel shouted fiercely, jabbing forward. The soldier scrambled backwards out from under the dagger's point, got to his feet and ran as commanded. He got to his feet, running a hand through his hair as he huffed a heavy sigh. He tossed the dagger to the ground and took a good, hard look at the children surrounding him. They looked up at him with confusion in their large and variously colored eyes. His shoulders fell as he waved an arm; the children scattered back to their homes. He stared into the distance, the rural village spread on the plains, people untouched by the war. The wind blew through him like a mother's embrace, swirling around his body and warming him from the inside._

_-cut-_

"_Ai malan! Im teloim jasaet'h"(5) Liandrel shouted as he stepped through the doorway into the house. He smiled as the pitter-patter of feet rounded the open corridor and barreled towards him. The three blonde children all lifted into the air and crashed into him, Liandrel falling back on the dirt. He laughed as the three troublemakers, all barely the height of his hips, detangled themselves from his long limbs and scurried away, giggles echoing behind them. _

"_At-tare, malan,"(6) a voice as smooth and rich as vanilla sounded. Liandrel smiled as his wife offered him a hand up. He took it and stood, weaving his fingers between hers and kissing her passionately. She broke away and lead him down through the maze of clay into the open- aired kitchen. Numerous women and men of varied ages pounded meal and roasted meat over low fires. A few of the more elderly persuasion washed spotted leaves and purple roots in the stream that breezed past. _

_She drifted away from him, bending over the shoulder of a woman who looked much like herself, who was grinding in a mortar some green sprigs. Liandrel looked fondly on his wife. Somarae whispered something into her sister's ear and the two of them giggled. Liandrel found himself leaning against the doorframe as she sauntered back towards him, her long blonde ringlets shaking to the tune of her narrow hips._

_-cut-_

_The ground lay in broken pieces around him, the sea of endless bodies making the ground look like some strange mosaic. He looked up from one of the dead bodies and saw her, standing over him, that great scythe glittering in the sunset. _

_Liandrel stood up, letting the man's hand drop from his. His eyes drew level with hers, long tendrils of blood caked, indigo hair blowing lightly in the wind over her still bright blue- painted form. She didn't wear metal armor- Derenokor soldiers refused it- but the slices ripped across the heavy leather of her long, armless tunic didn't reveal blood or skin. She was giving him a hard and appraising stare. Her scythe, dripping with the blood of the 50 continent soldiers dead in the valley around them. _

_She snaked a hand out and clasped a thumb and forefinger around the chain of polished tan stones around his neck, examining them. They were almost transparent, letting the dark brown cord color the beads in a stripe. Healer beads. She looked back up at Liandrel, who's face was stony. His pale brown eyes were trying their best not to look worried. Her face didn't soften as she dropped the string of beads. Using the large scythe as a pivot, she turned and began to walk away, up hill. When she reached the top, she turned around, a dark figure against the dying light of day. The ground exploded beneath him._

Ron jolted from his sleep and promptly fell out of bed, taking the majority of the sheets along with him. "Ron?" Harry called, stopping the incessant twirling and peering over the bed. Ron groaned, picking himself off of the floor and out of his blankets. He walked around his bed to the armoire and pulled open the doors. Picking out a small vial off of the shelf within, he went back to the bed.

"What are you doing up?" Ron asked, finally noticing Harry. Harry shrugged and returned back to spinning his wand over his hand. He caught it deftly and pointed it at the door. He spun it over the palm of his hand and pointed it again. Ron wrinkled his forehead at the demonstration, but said nothing. He lifted the vial to eye's height and picked up his wand from the side table.

"Bad dream?" Harry asked. Ron's hand froze, then dropped back down to his side. His shoulders slumped. "Memories, I think. Bloody strange, but at least these were sort of linear. Lots of dead people. And children. But it wasn't anything I hadn't seen before- it was just... organized better." Ron sat back against the wall, his head in thought, and a smile crept onto his face. Harry frowned.

"Go to bed, Harry." Ron said and Harry rolled his eyes. "Here, drink it," Ron offered Harry the vial in his hand.

"Isn't that supposed to work only for you?" Harry asked, giving Ron a sideways look. Ron examined the dark swirling liquid. "Nah, I think it's just supposed to work better for me than anyone else. It couldn't hurt, right?" Ron said. Harry shrugged and took it. Ron got up and fetched himself another vial. He tapped the top of it with his wand and the round bubble of glass at the top fell away. Harry mimicked the action.

"Cheers, Harry," Ron smirked and clinked his glass with Harry's. "We are pathetic. Toasting glasses of sleeping draught..." Harry grumbled and downed the contents. Within moments, the two of them were asleep.

* * *

"Rough night?" Ron asked over his cup of tea. He was slumped back in his chair at the head of the dining room table. Both Fred and George nudged each other as a very rumpled Percy slid into a chair. Percy poured himself a cup of tea from the pot and dumped the remaining sugar from the small bowl into his tea. He threw the entire cup back and slammed his head onto the table. 

"Aren't they all," Percy replied, annoyed and still face down on the table cloth. Ron furrowed his eyebrows. "That was quite a bender you and Esme went on, Perce. Didn't know you had it in you- practically cleaned the house out of spirits," George congratulated, slapping Percy on the back. "Our little Percy- they grow up so fast," Fred sniffled, wiping an imaginary tear from under his eyes. Ron rolled his eyes and Percy snorted.

"I could fix you up some Hangover Joe?" Charlie asked, coming in from the kitchen with a glass of pumpkin juice. He slid in next to Percy, trying to restrain a grin.

"I'm not hung over. I can't get hung over. I'm just very, very exhausted. Do we have anything slightly more caffeinated?" Percy inquired dryly, propping his head on one bent arm. "You can't get hung over? That's quite a trick," Charlie said, slightly in awe.

"You should see the key through the hand," Ron remarked offhandedly and Percy gave him a daggered look. "Not bloody likely," Percy grumbled, pushing himself back from the table and making his way to the kitchen. "Come on, it's a good trick!" Ron called as Percy swung into the kitchen.

The door swung back open immediately. "That is not even in the least bit funny, Ronald, and you'd do well... Mum," Percy's monotone ground to a halt as he spied Molly walking down the corridor towards the kitchen. Percy pulled his wand from his pocket and ducked into the kitchen.

"Mum, I'm so sorry about last night," Percy apologized as the door to the dining room swung shut behind him. The corner's of Molly's mouth twitched up and she waived her hand at him. "Dear, don't be ridiculous. You were pissed, which I only hope is something that doesn't happen often," Molly replied, but she didn't catch Percy's eyes. Percy frowned and swung in front of her on her path to the icebox.

"Mum... I..." Percy trailed off, and bit his lip. "I wasn't... well, pissed. Tipsy, maybe, but not drunk. I was angry and deliberately being a bastard and I'm sorry. I had no right to accuse you and Dad of being bad parents- you've been the best parents I could have asked for," Percy trailed off. He took a breath and he had his Head Boy look back on. "You took me in when you needn't have and have shown me nothing but infinite patience and concern... I was stupid. I'm sorry," Percy apologized again.

"Taken you in when I needn't have- what kind of talk is that?" Molly asked, her voice a bit strangled. "Percy..." Molly sighed exasperatedly. She took his hand and pulled him to kitchen table, two seats sliding out to greet them.

"I've always tried..." Molly began and stopped. "Percy. I know you've always felt you've been on the sidelines of this family, and I know your brothers certainly haven't helped the situation, but honestly, the line of thought you're carrying on is ridiculous. You seem to think there was some kind of option in getting you back and that we only did it to be nice." Percy opened his mouth to say something, but closed it and glared mildly at the table legs.

"There was no question in the matter, you stupid boy," Molly shouted, slamming her hand down on the table. Percy jumped at least four feet in his chair. Molly glared at him, not angrily, but with pity. "I love you, Percy," she said softly, taking one of his hands in her own. Percy rolled his eyes. "I know that, mum..." Percy started but as he caught his mother's eyes, the words dried up in his throat.

"Sometimes, I don't know if you do," Molly said. "I won't lie to you Percy: we've been on a difficult road, you and I," she remarked, leaning back in her chair. She didn't have to say anything else; her eyes held all of the guilt and inability she felt, balanced precariously as tears.

The two of them, with Percy's hand still grasped in Molly's, sat at the kitchen table. Seemingly caught in memories, they were silent for several minutes- the only sound echoing in the kitchen was the bare echo of Molly's thumb rasping against the wrist of Percy's white dress shirt as she worried the top of his hand. "You know," he broke the silence, looking up from the floor to him mum. "I don't think I turned out too bad. All things considered."

A smile cracked on Molly's face. "You think so?" she teased and matching smile cracked on Percy's face. "I'm not usually wrong," he shot back, his back straightening a bit in the chair. Molly nearly snorted. "Then it must be true," she said simply, rising from her chair. She dipped down to plant a kiss on Percy's forehead before releasing his hand and going to the stove.

* * *

"Good morning, Esme," Ginny said cheerfully as she went into the restroom. Esme flushed gently pink in her heavy black robe, and returned the greeting. Ginny pulled a comb from the drawer under the sink and began running it through her hair, the carroty strands shimmering in the day light breaking through the high window. Esme was quiet as she traced her lips with a light shimmer, stealing glances over to Ginny. 

"You're sure getting dolled up," Ginny said conversationally and Esme blushed deeper. She put the lip gloss back into the small, green plaid bag, but said nothing as she pulled out an eye pencil and jabbed it under the lens of her glasses, tracing her lower lids with it. "Eyeliner... someone is dressing to impress," she smirked, putting her comb back and grabbing her toothbrush. Esme was having trouble blushing any harder, but she backed away from the vanity and took off the robe.

"How do I look?" Esme asked innocently. She wore a gauzy black skirt that floated and swirled just at the top of her calves and a brilliant, red silk strapless top that clung to her waist. The short, black velvet riding jacket had the collar turned up so it framed her pale, unadorned neck. Ginny raised an eyebrow and whistled under her breath. "You might kill him," Ginny replied, chuckling.

Esme looked genuinely confused for about a moment. Once realization hit, she gasped and snapped the cloak back around her body. "Oh! NO, no, no... really?" Esme stopped, opening the robe and taking a good look in the mirror. She cocked her head to one side in heavy examination, then shut the robe and shook her head. She twisted her hair and clipped it to the back of her head. "Dad is getting me out of the house. I don't know where we're going, but I found this get-up hanging up in my closet, so I figured I'd better put it on," Esme explained, running a finger around her lips and wiping the excess gloss on her work robe.

Ginny guffawed, decorating the mirror with flecks of toothpaste, which the mirror had something to say about. "Snape picked that out?" she asked incredulously, giving an apologetic look to the mirror, who sniffed snottily. Esme snorted. "Are you kidding me? He probably had some sales clerk put it together- you've seen my father's style. Runs heavily into black- late gothic, early crypt. Although, the thought of my father going into a muggle clothing store is hilarious by itself."

Ginny spit out the remainder of her toothpaste into the sink and washed her mouth out. "Well, still. Percy's eyes are going to fall out of his head. In fact, I might steer clear of all my brothers at that."

Esme put her hand down on the counter and sighed. "I can't believe how embarrassing I behaved last night... if he doesn't think I'm some cheap... maybe I should change?" Esme sighed again and stood back up. A smile bloomed on her face.

"You know Ginny... I've got some lipstick that would look great on you," Esme said, her voice full of potential. Ginny gave her a strange look. "Well, there are two gentlemen on the premises who you happen to not be related to. Harry: dark, mysterious, tortured; and Neville: shy, caring, quirky," Esme laughed, pulling the black cylinder out of her bag and ripping off the top. Ginny rolled her eyes and Esme pouted. "Hey! Turn about is fair play! Snarky comments about Percy mean you get snarky comments about Harry and Neville. It's only fair."

* * *

When Esme came downstairs a few minutes later, she found Percy still in the kitchen with Molly. They had now been joined by Charlie and Neville, who were rehashing last night's Arrows game. Percy was drinking a rather large mug of coffee at the counter while Molly was dumping cut chunks of carrot into a large stew pot. "Percy?" Esme called out from the door. 

Percy looked up from his mug. "Esme, you're looking well this morning," Molly said cheerfully, turning from the cutting board. Esme gave her a small smile and motioned Percy out of the room. Percy put down his cup and followed her out.

"How are you feeling, Esme?" Percy asked, a bit timid. Esme didn't answer him, but looked avidly up and down the hall. She grabbed his hand and dragged him past the dining room and stairs to the library and shut the door. She nailed it with a locking charm and took a deep breath.

"I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night," Esme quickly recited. Percy sat on one of the tables and looked at her oddly. "What for?" he inquired. Esme fiddled with her work robe and leaned back against the door. She looked up.

"I nearly drank my body weight in spirits, had a nervous breakdown, passed out, woke up and did it again. Lather, rinse, repeat! I can't even imagine what you must think of me right now," Esme grumbled, balancing her head in one hand. Percy opened his mouth to speak but Esme sighed, cutting him off. She started to stalk back and forth across the door.

"I'm really not like this all the time. I'm a nice, stable person," she shouted, exasperated. "I'm not some basket case who has a meltdown every time You-Know-Who is mentioned and then drains the entire house of alcohol before physically assaulting..." Esme trailed off, stopping in front of a book case and sliding down it. "I'm sorry," she muttered, drawing her robe around her knees. She looked up and sighed. "This little demonstration isn't helping my case, either."

Percy slid off of the table and crouched down in front of her. "Do you feel better now?" he asked. Esme looked up at him and shrugged. "Better? Not particularly. Mainly embarrassment. And stupidity. Which I suppose is an improvement over last night," she replied dryly. Percy chuckled and pulled her up to a standing position.

"You know, last night I wasn't entirely sober myself. In fact, for several whole minutes, the words 'severely inebriated' come to mind," Percy explained. Esme was looking down at her hands, which were still in Percy's grasp. He didn't seem to notice; but he did notice the words that just came out of his mouth and visibly winced. "That's not what I wanted say," he added quickly. The slight blush that was creeping from his collar added to his rumpled look.

Esme looked up from her hands to Percy. Her green eyes looked large, simply outlined in dark brown pencil, the lashes long- Percy could drown in them. He bit his bottom lip and his vision refocused. "You look really nice today, Esme," he remarked suddenly. Esme looked down- the ensemble underneath her robes were hidden almost completely from view. When she looked back up to contradict him, Percy was glaring over her shoulder.

"Don't let us bother you," Fred joked from the door frame. Esme turned around and saw Fred, George and Charlie standing in the doorway, with matching smirks on their face. Esme's face blossomed red. She looked back at Percy, who wore a very sly grin. "Right," he said simply. He let go of Esme's hands and pounced forward.

"Damn my eyes!" George shouted playfully as Fred and Charlie lobbed cat-calls in their direction. Esme's eyes flickered open slightly, a devious look in her eyes. She launched herself forward, toppling Percy to the ground, the kiss unbroken. "Woah..." Charlie whistled low and the library door slammed shut. "What!? It was just getting good!" they could hear Fred holler from the hallway.

Esme rolled off of Percy and the two lay side by side for half a second in silence. Then they both burst into laughter. "chuckle, chuckle That was perfect- you couldn't possibly have played that better," Percy laughed, rolling onto his side and clutching his stomach. Esme giggled. "It was too good an opening, I had to take it. giggle Did you get a good look at Charlie's face?"

Percy laughed even harder. "I thought his eyes were going to shoot out of his head! And Fred and George... I think this is the closest thing to a prank I've ever gotten on them," he exclaimed. The two of them fought to sit up on the hard wood floor.

"Oh I don't think I'll ever hear the end of this, will I?" Esme chuckled, primly wiping the corners of her eyes. "Well, I think I just went up in everyone's standings," Percy replied, smiling. Esme rolled her eyes. "Then it was all worth it, was it? Now I'm a raging alcoholic AND a cheap tart. Yay for me!" Esme cheered, taking off her robe and flapping her hands in front of her face, trying to get some air. She got to her feet and took off the jacket and sat down on a table, gripping the sides as she tried to shake the lasts of the laughs out of her.

Percy almost choked on his tongue.

He got up slowly and stood in front of Esme, leaning forward so that his hands covered hers on the table. "Not cheap," he smirked. Esme laughed but was interrupted when Percy snaked a hand along her jaw line. Esme looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

"You don't have anything to be sorry about," he said and Esme couldn't meet his eyes. He could feel Esme's hand tense under his, threatening to clench right through the table. She looked up, a sad look on her face. "Percy, I..."

The thought in her head dissolved as Percy captured her lips tenderly with his own.

* * *

Author's Notes: Hooray! Done! I ran out of motivation half way through the chapter and I managed to get it back last night, so here is it. Yay! Love and kisses to db, Miss Piratess and my chocolate- loving fiend, Schizo13. 

Also... if you're reading this story, Wild Spirit of Darkness2, thanks for reviewing Jumper. I can't believe it's been 3 years since I wrote that and I honestly don't know how you came upon it, but thanks!

Translations of above wordage (although I think the intent is obvious):

1. Shut up!

2. Who did this?

3. Hmmm... I think you should run. Now.

4. Run. Now.

5. Oh honey, I'm home!

6. Welcome back, dear.


	19. Trust

"Have you seen Esme around, Molly?" Severus Snape strolled into the kitchen, his heavy black robe swishing majestically.

Several knives were set on the counter, chopping away at a stack of potatoes. Molly sat at the table with a cup of tea, blowing over the top of it before taking a sip. She looked up, the corners of her eyes drawn out, like she couldn't quite see who was in front of her. "She dragged Percy off with her a few minutes ago," she responded, a tea cup fluttering from a cabinet and settling on the table.

"Do you think we made the right decision, splitting up all the kids?" she said suddenly, picking up the teapot and pouring the steaming contents into the cup. Severus drew over and slid into the kitchen chair.

"Of course we did. Obviously they needed a chance to start over; certainly didn't need any reminders of the past," he said assuredly, taking a sip of the tea. Molly didn't look convinced as she topped off her own cup. "Why do you ask?" he added.

Molly sighed, and she looked down, cupping her tea in both hands. "He's been so happy the last couple of days. Even with everything going on... he finally feels like he has a place in this family. And I can't say that it's just because all the kids finally know," she gave him a pointed look.

Severus returned it with a withering look of his own. "Oh yes, what with him being completely smashed last night and yelling at the two of you. Well adjusted, I'd call it," he shot dryly, sipping his tea and looking out the back window.

"And your daughter was the picture of sobriety, was she?" she returned smoothly. Severus rolled his eyes, picking up his teacup and holding it in his hand. "I didn't say that Esme was improving," he muttered, sighing.

"She's thinner. And obviously tense. I don't consider myself Father Of The Year, but I can recognize when she's stressed to the point of breaking. Esme's too self-reliant to speak about it to anyone except when she's stone drunk." He leaned back in his chair leisurely. "If I could have, I'd have let her stay in America." The last bit came out rather quick, and he took a large gulp of tea, replacing the empty cup on the counter.

Molly's jaw dropped slightly in surprise. "You're not serious," she remarked, breathlessly. Severus gave her a hard look. "What she needs is to be working, to live her life- not to be cooped up in this monstrosity of a house with the constant reminder that someone is out to get her," he clarified sharply.

"What she needs is a father to talk to her plainly and offer a shoulder to cry on," Molly retorted, reaching across the table and poking him in the side. Severus's eyes wound up briefly as the old wound, the one he had hidden from Esme, flared with pain. When his eyes reopened, they looked murderous.

"Do you honestly think that Esme completely trusts anything I say? That either of our children trust us? Wake up, Molly! We couldn't protect them then and we can't protect them now and all of the pretty little lies we've told to integrate them into society, to make them feel safe, they are just that- lies. It's folly to believe that someone as intelligent as Percy doesn't see that," he spat out. He slowly rose from his seat.

"But they needed those lies told so some part of them could believe they were true. A group mentality between the five of them would have only strengthened their resolve to not believe in them- and what about Evarin? Should we have included him too? The last time I saw him, he wanted to put a wooden slat through your son's chest."

Severus's hands dug into the wood of the table as a silence swept through the kitchen. Molly's hands trembled slightly around her teacup, and her eyes were closed lightly. Severus stood up straight and walked to the swinging door. "Keeping them together would have only reinforced the past and what they needed was a clean start, Molly. We did the right thing," he said, his voice brooking no opposition, before sweeping out of the room.

* * *

"I'm bored." Ron twirled his wand between his fingers, tossing it into the air and attempted to catch it. He missed, and instead it clunked against Neville's skull. 

"Thanks," Neville rubbed the top of his head and stuck Ron's wand into his pocket. "Hey!" Ron shouted, rolling over on his bed and making a grab at Neville, who on the floor against the mattress. Neville ducked to the side, switching over to lean against Harry's mattress. "That's the third time you've managed to clobber me with the thing- I'm keeping it," he shot back.

Harry chuckled from his bed, snatching Ron's wand out of Neville's hand and tossing it to Ron. Ron caught it easily and smirked at Neville, who stuck out his tongue. "We could plan out a birthday party for the two of you," Ron commented, spinning his wand between his fingers and tossing it into the air. This time he caught it.

Neville rolled his eyes. "What, another round of Dean and Seamus trying to charm the pants off of each other, Luna searching for Crumple-Horned Snorkaks under your bed, Ginny trying to stand unassisted and you and I singing 'Beat Back Those Bludgers, Boys, And Chuck That Quaffle Here?' off key? Pull the other one, it's got bells on," Neville cut down the idea. Ron picked up his pillow and threw it at Neville, who couldn't move fast enough to avoid it.

"You think after last night Mum's not going to lock up every bit of alcohol left in this house? No chance of a rousing chorus of The Hedgehog Song to the tune of Ogden's Old for us. What do you think, Harry?" Ron asked, changing positions to sit cross-legged on his bed.

Harry lay flat on his bed, hands behind his head, his stocking feet resting on his pillow at the head of the mattress. "Dunno. Never really had a birthday party before," he said honestly. After a moment, he turned his head. "The Hedgehog Song?"

Neville rolled his eyes and Ron smiled. "It's an old wizarding song. You can only sing it properly when you've had a lot to drink," he replied cheerily, hopping off of his bed and settling down onto Harry's. "That's what we'll do then. A birthday party. A huge cake with your names done in buttercream; candles; presents, the lot."

Harry sat up. "We aren't allowed to leave the premise, Ron. Presents?" he asked. Ron waved his hands. "Not to worry, not to worry. It'll be taken care of..." A strange look came over Ron's face, a faraway look in his eye.

"Ron?" Neville asked, getting to his feet. Harry waived him off, looking concernedly at Ron. After a moment, Ron looked towards the door and rubbed the back of his neck. He got to his feet and walked to the door, only to stop halfway. He looked down at his feet and then turned around. "Bill was supposed to be here yesterday, wasn't he?" Ron asked. Neville and Harry both stared back. "Er... I don't know. Was he?" Harry replied, his hand hovering over the pocket holding his wand.

Ron turned back towards the door and began to march quickly towards it. He threw it open and went next door. Not bothering to knock, he pushed his way through. Ginny and Hermione sat on their beds, scribbling on parchment. "Gin- when was Bill supposed to be here?" Ron shouted as he halted in front of Ginny's bed. Ginny looked up, confused. "Er... today?" she said.

Ron bit his lip. "You sure?" Ginny shrugged. "No. Why?" she asked, but Ron was already heading towards the door. He walked across the hall and walked into that room. A bright blue flash exploded across his vision and he coughed with all the dust.

"You know better to knock first, Ronnie-kins," George walked towards him, fanning away the smoke. Ron joined him. "Where is Bill?" Ron asked. George look startled and looked behind him. From within the folds of the smoke, Fred emerged. "I dunno... wasn't he supposed to come in yesterday?" Fred said and Ron paled. He turned around and took off with huge, loping steps out of the bedroom.

And crashed into Harry and Neville. The three of them tumbled to the ground. Ron pushed Neville's legs off of him and scrambled to his feet. He flew down the stairs, taking them three at a time before tripping and spilling himself down the last six of them. He collapsed at the bottom of the staircase, wacking his leg hard against the end of the bannister. "Ron! Are you alright?" Harry called from the second floor.

Ron lifted his head off of the floor and looked up the staircase, waiving a hand at Harry. He sat up slowly, rubbing his lower back as he got into a sitting position. He put himself against the opposite wall and looked back up the staircase. The world seemed sluggish, like treacle, as he spotted Neville and Ginny peer over the edge of the second floor, Harry and Fred already on their way down, followed by Hermione and George. Ron turned his head to the right, his movement slow as if he was moving through wet sand. The front door creaked open ominously, tenuously.

The world snapped back into sharpness as Harry gave out a brief cry, smacking his forehead with his hand. Ron looked back towards the door and saw the door swing open even wider to reveal a small figure standing on the stoop with a mad grin on his face. Kreacher.

And behind him, the pale, smirking face of Lucius Malfoy.

"_Diffindo!"_ a voice shouted from the left of Ron, a jet of green light shooting down the hallway from the kitchen. Kreacher found himself flung into the air, his body acting as a barrier between Malfoy and the spell. The cutting charm took Kreacher's head clean off. Ron felt a hand grab his left arm and toss him towards the steps. Severus Snape didn't even steal a look as he progressed forward. _"Crucio,"_ he followed it up and Malfoy neatly sidestepped it, the spell instead hitting a cloaked figure behind him.

Ron paled as he looked down the hall, past the front door and to the outside. "Get upstairs, you fool!" Snape shouted as, with a flick of his wand, the door slammed shut. A shriek tore from the kitchen and Ron found his progression halted. Fred pushed by him followed by George as they ran towards the kitchen.

Molly burst through the swinging door at full speed. "Upstairs, you lot," she said, her voice amazingly calm as she caught the twins by their shoulder and spun them around. She marched them quickly towards the stairs. "Everyone, go into my bedroom and STAY THERE," she shouted as she threw Fred and George towards the staircase.

Charlie popped in from the dining room. "Sealed all the kitchen windows and doors," he reported, his voice cold. "Front door as well," Snape said as he walked back to the group.

Everyone took turns giving each other nervous glances as silence purveyed through the house. Then, a loud 'poof.' Screams from close by.

Then a louder poof, followed by heavy stomps. "Run!" Molly shouted as five, dark-cloaked men rushed out of the living room doorway and down the hall.

They all took off up the stairs, Charlie bringing up the rear.

* * *

Percy pulled back from the kiss, looking confidently into Esme's eyes. She still looked like she was a deer caught in the headlights. "I suppose we are even on the assaulting front," he said dryly, a smirk growing. Esme didn't respond, instead taking a shuddering breath and touching her fingertips to her lips. 

"Oh dear..." she trailed off. Percy backed up from the table, leaning back a bit. He looked at Esme, the confidence draining from his eyes. Esme got up and paced towards the back wall, running a hand through her hair. "You didn't mean it. Tell me you didn't mean it," she stuttered, her eyes trained on the floor.

"What?" Percy coughed out, looking gobsmacked. "You didn't mean it. Why... you couldn't have meant it," she repeated forcefully, her head picking up and her eyes searching him." Percy closed his eyes, swiping the glasses off of his face and pinching the bridge of his nose. He opened his eyes, keeping his head down. "What are you going on about, of course I meant it," he said slowly, trying to keep his voice even. He slipped the glasses back on and walked towards Esme.

Esme closed her eyes. The she opened them and Percy was standing in front of her. "The thing is..." she started, then closed her mouth. He was so confused, so lost to her actions. A flash went by of a boy with bright red, curly hair looking sullen and scared in the corner of a large white room. She turned her head and the memory continued- a smaller boy with dark, ancient eyes fighting a team of white-robed men who were succeeding in restraining him. It sent a chill through her.

"Oh... you know what? Screw it," Esme said, wrapped her hand around his collar and pulled down, catching Percy in a searing kiss.

"You know," she took a breath, another kiss. Breath. "Ginny said you had a thing for libraries," she said. Kiss. "Classrooms," he said off-handedly, smiling. Kiss. "You're such a nerd," Esme giggled. Kiss. Kiss. "I'm Superman, remember." Kiss. "Big Head Boy, rather." "Hey!" Percy protested to Esme's giggles. "Pompous, arrogant, obnoxious..." she joked. "Do shut up," he replied. Kiss.

Percy pulled back, turning around towards the door. Esme blinked. "Do you...?" Esme asked and Percy nodded. "Feel that... yeah." Soot rained down gently in the fireplace. The two of them turned to the bookcases on the left wall, the small fireplace buried in it creaking metallically. Esme could feel Percy slip a hand around her wrist, down to grasp her hand.

Green flame shot out from the opening. "Knock the books off the shelf," Percy shouted as several men in hooded black cloaks shot out of the fireplace. Esme screamed as she pulled out her wand. The shelves began to shed themselves as books began to fall under Percy's wand.

"_Inflammare!"_ Esme shouted, a row of flames making a wide circle around the uninvited guests. She could feel the hand around her wrist tighten at the fire, but Percy's face was a mask of concentration and betrayed no fear. Several books flew over to join the blaze, the flames licking higher. "What are you doing, those were probably priceless!" Percy snapped, distracted. He launched several shielding charms around the area. Esme glared. "Are you mad- we are being attacked and you're worried about books?!" she shrieked, sending off several more rows of books to stack in front of the fireplace.

Percy clutched his arm suddenly as a cutting charm managed to find its way past the shields to his arm. The fire was gone, and despite the now desperate situation, Percy sighed with relief. _"Protego!"_ Esme shouted, as several curses made there way towards them. He pulled her with him around the room to just left of the fireplace, kicking the books blocking the fireplace and running a hand across the top of the mantle. "What on earth are you doing?" Esme asked as she threw up another shield.

Percy's finger's caught on a piece of plaster jutting from the junction between wall and mantle. _"Maleficio,"_ Esme shouted as the shield dissolved. A green haze swept out of her wand and seeped around the Death Eaters. They froze in their spots. Percy pointed his wand at the outcropping and whispered, _"Evanesco Insubito."_ The tallest of the villains threw a punch that laid out another cloaked figure. A third set the first on fire. The second was hit with the Cruciatus curse from the fourth.

"Here we go," Percy wrapped a hand around Esme's shoulder and released the latch his fingers were wrapped around. "Wha...!" Esme was cut off as the ground opened beneath them and the two dropped down.

* * *

The two fell for a few seconds before landing on a damp, concrete slab. The two of them made contact with the ground, and Percy wasted no time in getting to his feet. He pointed his wand upwards and shouted, _"Subito." _He turned to Esme, who was rubbing her ankle, her lip between her teeth. "Come on, we've got to get upstairs," he said, grabbing Esme's arm. She shrugged him off. "Give it a second to set," she seethed through gritted teeth. She took a deep breath and got up. She slipped off the heels she was wearing and tossed them into the darkness, putting her weight on her left foot gingerly. She winced slightly, but stood. 

"Where are we?" she asked, looking around their location. The air smelled stale and while the stones lining the floor were elderly and crumbling, the walls was smoothly paved with concrete and looked substantially newer than the surroundings. Dimly lit torches lined the walls, illuminating the ground. She looked up- it was a black that extended forever.

"Secret passage. All the old wizarding families have them in their houses," he whispered. He ran his hands along the cold, slimy wall. Thunks sounded above. "Footsteps... they're heading upstairs," Esme said. Percy walked down a bit farther, his hands still trailing over the smooth gray stone. "Where is it... where are they," Percy muttered to himself. Esme looked at him, trailing down the corridor, and her eyes caught the ground.

"The stones... Percy," Esme called, bending down, looking intensively at a stone. 2L was etched into a stone with what looked like a coil under it. She walked forward, and after about 5 more stones, there was another etching, this time reading 2B1 with a coil. She scooted forward more, and then snatched Percy. "3B2, that's my bedroom. Come on," Esme exclaimed. She backed up a little bit, then skipped towards the mark. She jumped and landed right on top of the 3B2 stone. Esme shot up like a firework into the darkness. Percy smiled.

* * *

When Percy got into the bedroom, Esme was slipping on a pair of red trainers. "Come on," Percy said shortly, throwing open the door to the hallway. The two of them spilled out onto the corridor. "We're being attacked and the two of you are shagging in Esme's bedroom!?!" Ginny shouted. 

Esme and Percy looked up at the Weasley children, Neville, Harry and Hermione, all in varying degrees of worry, coming up the stairs. Lights strobed down the staircase and screams in Latin and in Greek garbled together cacophonously. "Dad..." Esme whispered, her face stricken.

"He can take care of himself," Percy patted her on the shoulder, picking himself off of the ground. He turned to Charlie. "They broke through all of the fireplaces, we managed to hold them off in the library and find the entrance to the secret passage. Brilliant hex, by the way Esme, really inventive," Percy turned to Esme, giving her a warm smile. She blushed.

"Secret passage?" Harry asked. "All of the old wizarding houses have them," Hermione replied, helping Esme up. "The Burrow doesn't have one," Harry retorted. "Yes it does," chorused the Weasleys as they filed into the bedroom. Harry's eyebrows lifted. "Really? Why didn't you ever tell me, Ron?" Harry asked. "Emergencies only," Ron replied, his voice dead.

"We've got to find the catch. George, watch the door," Charlie began running his hand over the bookshelves. Suddenly, the floor opened up and a cloaked figure shot up from the hole. His wand twitched and several daggers shot out of his hand. _"Stupify!"_ Harry shouted, the figure careening into the wall with a sickening crack. Everyone looked at Harry, who looked down at the body grimly.

"Is anybody hurt?" Charlie asked. Hermione trembled a bit, a dagger thunked into the wood a bit to close to her head for comfort. Two daggers were wobbling in one of the bed posts, and one of them was sticking clean through Percy's shoulder. "No. The bloody vanishing charm must have not worked," Percy replied emptily, ripping the bit of metal out and watching as it transfigured back into a large stone on the way down.

"Or they came up from a different room. Hermione, George- ward the door," Charlie instructed as he swooped over Percy. "It's fine, Charlie," Percy shrugged him off, fingering the line of blood on the paleness of his shirt.

"We're getting out of here," Esme said, digging through the bed table. She pulled out a large brass ring from the drawer and then, from underneath her pillow, the time turner. Percy looked at her strangely. "But we didn't run into ourselves the first time," Percy squinted. Esme smiled and began pulling out the chain, making it larger and larger.

* * *

"We've got 2 minutes until the portkey will be activated," Esme dropped the time turner and hopped out of the circle. She gathered up the chain as the 9 others jumped out from the circle and she tucked it into her pocket. "Disillusionment charms," Charlie said and Esme smiled. "Right you are," she replied, digging into her closet and swinging a robe on. 

Ginny looked at the door. "We've got to warn ourselves- we're all in the kitchen looking at the OWL results," Ginny made towards the door. Hermione grabbed her wrist. "We can't be seen, it's against the rules," Hermione scolded. Ginny looked at her like she was mad. "Against the rules! Are you mad!? My mum might be dead!" Ginny shouted. Her jaw clicked shut as the reality of those words sunk in.

"45 seconds, everyone," Esme said, her sad eyes trained on the bedside clock. Charlie started tapping everyone on the head with the charm, the sensation feeling like chocolate syrup being poured over their heads. "10 seconds," Esme's voice fluttered in the superficially empty room.

"5 seconds, 4... 3... 2... 1." The brass ring vanished.

* * *

Author's Notes: What a chapter! First thing I have to do is say that I'm borrowing the Disillusionment charm idea from LavenderBrown's marvelous work. Read it- the thing is this absolutely fabulous, two story epic that is incredibly in character... oh! It's great! Sorry for the delay- with Thanksgiving, the no-posting time earlier this week and me finally getting a job (hooray!), I've been a bit busy. But thank you to my incomparably faithful DB, my enchantingly wonderful Miss Piratess, my marvelously crazy Schizo13, andmy new reviewers OnceUponADecember31and Mikhyel. You guys rock my world! 


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